[PT] handmade heaven

[Sabine]

Cardinal shadows gathered like loose honeycomb fabric around the girl's ankles. The day, soft and moribund, fell all around her; weeping lilac-milk tears into the darkness that haunted every cavern and wrinkle like the bloodhound that it was. Sabine was not afraid of the dark, but sometimes she wondered whether she ought to be. For eventide was imbued with an organic violence that both dazzled and dizzied her; elevating her senses to an existential high that chased away the sadness clinging to her bones like pine resin. It seemed to her a miracle that the sunlight's butcher did not seek to add her own scalp to its collection, but time and again it passed her by, leaving only the fleeting stain of his bloodshed doused across her marbled flesh.  Sabine moved with birdlike grace across the steppe, caught low in the throes of her malaise. She was not a girl without peace; she woke each dawn to hum the song of swallows overhead and faithfully carried the weight of the sun upon her back, but, still, there was a great sadness living in the machinery of her heart  - rusting the cogs until they could dance no more. Her mother, her father; what had become of the two greatest creatures she had ever known? For does not every child see their guardians through only glass made from gold? Time had shifted into a dimension she could neither resist or understand, and into the heavy night she moved, bearing a satchel filled with a thousand different ways to say 'Papa, I miss you.' @Moira