“It’s dark, Celes.”
“It’s always dark, sweetness.”
“It’s darker than usual. And cold. I want to go home, Celes. Why won’t you take me home?”
“I can’t take you home, sweetness. It’s too far…”
“How long have we been walking, Celes? Where are we going?”
“We’re going to take you out of this place, sweetness. You can’t be here much longer.”
“But where is out, if you aren’t taking me home?”
“It’s a place far away, sweetness. But once you get there you can recover, and then you can take yourself home. You know the way.”
“…”
“You won’t leave me, will you, Celes? I…I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be alone.”
“I won’t leave you alone, sweetness. Just trust me and keep moving. We’re almost there.”
“What kind of a place is it, Celes?”
“It’s a land called Novus, and, like most lands, it is full of…many strange and beautiful things. It’s no different from home, if you squint.”
“And if you don’t?”
“I know too little of mortal politics to care, sweetness; everything is ephemeral for beings like me. You know that.” A gentle stroke of damp, squishy flesh against her brow – it used to make her stomach turn, but now it’s a comfort, if a cold one. The darkness bends around Celes; she can’t see it, not really, but she thinks that she knows where it is. But this entire world swirls and loses focus, and she’s faltering, falling, fading-
“Celes,” She gasps, choking, twisting, “I don’t think I can keep walking.” Those tentacles writhe against her skin, grasp her, steady her.
“It’s just up here, sweetness.” And she feels it, now, a gentle tug against her coat, an electric hum that raises every hair on her body; she stumbles towards the gash. With each step, her legs – and she curses her perpetual frailty, her feather-boned uselessness - collapse beneath her, but she perseveres, panting, sticky with sweat, and-
“Don’t be afraid, sweetness. I’ll see you on the other side.”
And then, darkness.
---
She is lying in sand.
It clings to her limbs in a fine, prickling powder that crunches when she moves. Her wings splay out awkwardly at her sides, and her hair sticks to her sides in sweaty, disgruntled clumps that tangle in her legs. She aches - everything aches, throbs, numbs. She can hear the distant roar of the ocean – the low rumble of thunder, too, the faintest whiff of fresh water on the horizon. This all leads her to conclude that she’s on the beach.
She stirs, slowly, and raises her head as though she’ll see anything if she turns it about, ears swiveling in a desperate attempt to take in her empty surroundings. “Celes? Celes, where are we?” Her voice comes out hoarse and broken, like she’s swallowed shards of glass. She waits, patient, and-
Nothing.
Time drags on, but she finds no answer. “Celes? CELES?!” She is greeted by silence, and, as she writhes, frantic as the canary in a coal mine, she realizes that the darkness is still – it does not swirl or dance, but remains cold and void. She grasps for that spark inside of her, for that little bit of divinity that allows her to tear the world raw, but she doesn’t find it. She grasps further inside of her, down to the darkest depths, down, down, down -
But there’s nothing inside of her, nothing there, there’s nothing-
Virun is empty.
And, as she curls in upon herself, salt on her tongue and the first droplets of rain tumbling down to soak her glistening violet skin, she realizes that she is alone.
all my love won't bring you back to me and oh my god I'm wasting away
PULLED FLOWERS AT MY FEET, LOST IN THE WIND
@@Torstein <3
