venom ; eirlys&petra

All I can feel is the cold.

Eternal and through me; I can feel a cold wind suffocate my bones and entwine itself within the depth of my soul. Becoming integrated in every part of me, every tiny detail and every thorn to my rose.

It wasn't even my name they called—my naivety looped me into this chaos. And this disaster is spherical and it surrounds me like a premature coffin for this skeleton girl.

A symphony of rattling bones accompanies as I enter the Justice Building. Closer than my shadow but we are divided by the flesh and bloods rivers that come between us; I can't jump them. 

My fingers crawl to scratch my elbows, before boots enter my lowered vision. I work my way up the female body, gulping slightly when I realise who I am faced with. Mortuus by name but mortal in their nature—Celia's death did not come as a surprise.

She gives me the once over, and I stare blankly at her when she speaks.

"Hello, Miss Vipointe," and I'm feeling weak at the knees.

"I work for the Mortuus Hospital, and I was wondering if, for trade in sponsorships, would you be willing to donate your organs in the event that you, don't make it." 

She strikes at my hope and pride, grabbing each by the throat. They can't breathe, and that's okay. I shouldn't be afraid of dying any more; the inevitability of it all was recognised long ago and pieces of me are dying all the time. And if I'm honest with myself, death sounds so fucking peaceful.

"Go ahead."

I always have been a believer in helping the less fortunate, and if I can do that from beyond the grave then I'll die content. My eyes slither down to my body and I twitch, my mind races with doubts and second thoughts: what if I can still feel it?

Doubt is cast aside. I am going to be delivered into the comforting folds of darkness and I'll go down like a lead balloon to a career from One; why am I contemplating whether I'll feel anything from the other side?

Petra Vipointe will be ice, and she'll be long gone.

"Charity starts at home, right?"

coding : elegant

"Oh yes! Definitely." She replies, and her words remove the foundations from the brick wall which I can sense is going to crumble at my feet any minute.

I blink, shiver slightly and the clock has already struck.

"All you have to do is sign here." The Mortuus girl places the papers on the table, gesturing with a single skeletal finger towards a dotted line which awaits my signature. Her hands dart into her pockets and for a second I'm left hanging, but she offers me a small pen which I take quickly, "just in case we need proof of consent."

I nod.

I try to fit the pen between my fingers but they are hot and cold all at once. The tips remain icebergs for a period before becoming stars from above. Uncontrollable and unavoidable changes cause their temperature to continue swinging between the two—but it's okay, because I delivered myself to this evil.

My signature becomes a line with a few bumps and a line crossing all of the letters at once. Illegible, really and difficult to decipher—it barely says my name. I assure myself it doesn't matter, the name of a ghost will have no relevance in a couple weeks time anyway. It barely has relevance now.

Shakily, I exhale a breath and murmur to myself:

"I just signed away my organs—it's a mild day."

I shudder at the thought once again but decide it's just another tremor, an aftermath of emotion's earthquake I suffered just a few minutes ago. "Go crazy with them."

The pen slithers from my hand like a snake and finds itself drowning in a pool of ink leaking from the tip. Frosted eyes look over to the Mortuus girl once again and I tilt my head, wondering if we're done here and I can actually go and prepare for my social suicide at the Capitol.

But my idiosyncrasy wages war, and my intrigue allies with the force. "How are your family holding up after Celia's death? I guess you got a pretty penny from her organs."

coding : elegant