but it's all alright {nolive}
Mar 30, 2016 23:21:33 GMT -5
Post by maverick hale 🌧️ d5 [nyte] on Mar 30, 2016 23:21:33 GMT -5
WE ARE DEAF WE ARE NUMB
O L I V E M O R T U U S
FREE AND YOUNG, WE CAN FEEL NONE OF ITFor a child raised by death this hurts. I have seen corpses, bodies gray as stone and cold as ice. Their eyes are wide, jaws hung slack as though marveling as some unseen deity come to drag them back to hell. I have smelt death, the decay of bodies and the stench of iron blood doomed to drip, drip, drip onto concrete like spring's first shower. And I wish she had been the first canon to ring, I wish that all of this had been over so much sooner because hope is a disgusting thing and it was all I could do.
Celiaiswas strong. Celiacouldcouldn't come home. It was duct tape forced around my wrists, socks shoved down my throat and I was a slave to the childish belief that she was going to make it. Because the centuries ago that were only yesterday, back when I feared monsters and searched for them out of some sick curiosity, she was always the best at keeping me safe. I don't know if she meant to, there is nothing you could know about Celia Mortuus. She was a raven perched upon Death's shoulder, her most trusted servant and every word was a riddle clicked off an ebony beak.
It doesn't matter if she loved me. It's not like she'll come home and it's not like I'll ever get to ask her. She is blood and bones, the very thing in which her hands were so often bathed. A reaper was reaped. It has never seemed so permanent. Not when I sneaked to the attic room every morning and let the spirits of all the souls we stole into the heavens above. I thought they were alive. I thought for the longest time that there was something more than this world and that's why life was so fucking shitty. Because there was something better.
What a childish notion.
We are nothing but skin, tools to be used by those lucky enough to have survived another day but the joke's on them because you cannot win a race to which there is no finishing line.
I think I'm going to be sick- my stomach churns and boils and there she is. Seeping out upon the swamp floor. The shot of my sister's dead body lingers, taunting and triumphant. And I run, I run I run I run. Into the bathroom, bracing either side of the porcelain with shaking hands because I'm going to be sick.
Nothing comes. Nothing but diamonds off the tip of my nose, clattering against the stagnant water below me and it might as well be knives against glass because it's so fucking loud. Tears come fast after I have broken, shoulders shaking as I collapse upon the floor. This isn't how it was supposed to go. I was so fucking sure that no one could kill a woman who feared not even death itself. Who greeted her as her equal nearly every damn day of her life. It wasn't supposed to end like this.
I can see her in the mirror- in every one my features. And part of me expects her hands around my throat in an instant, shaking me and forcing a scattered brain to come to its senses. But her canon has fired, heartbeat personified. Celia Mortuus is dead. "FUCK!" The mirror shatters. The sink turns black with my blood. "Fuck you! Fuck you for leaving and fuck you for dying. I hope you're fucking happy Celia I really hope you are."
She's not anything but dead. I don't think about that.
I wrap a jacket that once belonged to her around my shoulders, one that is neither my style nor my size. It smells of vanilla and death. It smells like her. It is a bandage- one much like the thin white cloth still stuck to the gashes in my back. It eases the pain because suddenly- I can breathe. I can think.
I can run.
Out the window- it'll take them longer to notice. My feet hit the ground and it hurts something awful. Don't think about that because I can stand. I can still fucking run. Past buildings, past peacekeepers. Past the town square and the stupid fucking screen. And I don't look back. Not once. Because when I get to where I'm going, I won't need any of them.
"Nori!" I leave blood upon his front door- pushing shards of glass further into my flesh but I don't care.
I'm not going back there.
"Nori please open up I- I need some help."
My voice breaks and so do I. Because there is no one I need more than the smart mouthed asshole who took me to see his fucking dog after I decked him for no goddamn reason. There is no one I would rather see, not even the littlest monster could stop this aching, the one no longer sated by my sister's jacket around my shoulders and fuck them.
I can't be a Mortuus. I cannot be Death's only son for another minute. The price is too high- the pain is too great. And without Nori I think I might just be dead by sunrise.