afterthought ♢ sarasin

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afterthought ♢ sarasin Oct 4, 2016 8:56:13 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Oct 4, 2016 8:56:13 GMT -5

calanthia --

There's a ringing, the whistle of a sink faucet, blood draining from my face and off my hands; I panicked. Eye contact, bright eyes locked into their own reflection -- he attacked me, it was self defense I, I-

I'm a murderer.

"Fuck," it's deafening. The water's whistle, my heavy breathing; having to stare myself in the face -- I killed Jannik. And for a moment I feel something inside of me collapse, my body compress on itself and making me sick. Fuck, and for a moment I feel like collapsing all the same. I choke on something in my throat, drying my face and eyes and hand and rinsing blood from the sink; I can't do this. Sarasin, a murderer. I can't-

So I must.

The door clicks behind me as softly as I can get it to, my harsh breathing mixed with drunk stumbling -- god. This is gonna be embarrassing, huh? I hold my breath on the train, a ride to the Sarasin Castle; I shouldn't be here, I say to myself. Holding onto the pole for dear life on the travel, shaking and stumbling and weak,
I was supposed to get better than this.

"Lucrezia?" A murmur, unsteady.

Like a dying heart beat.

I wander this castle, the one I left behind for so long -- Calanthia, it feels foreign. Like I've never been here in my life, but as myself I guess I haven't. I feel the red of my lips, biting my chipped nails, trying to recollect balance. Steady breathing. Steady heartbeat -- "Lucrezia?"

A midnight whisper, Calanthia. I can't do this. My fingers tremble on the doorknob of her room, and I can barely breathe --
but I have to.

"I need help."

[ ice cream ]

Last Edit: Oct 9, 2016 10:34:50 GMT -5 by Deleted

я𝑜𝓈𝑒
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afterthought ♢ sarasin Oct 4, 2016 9:42:21 GMT -5

Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Oct 4, 2016 9:42:21 GMT -5

L U C R E Z I A

S A R A S I N ;

It is a cold night.

Snow gently pelts the frozen window like a soft rain; all I can see outside are little white blurs against a starless black sky. Up in the mountains of Two, we almost never see the sun, but I don't mind. I was made for the ice and the snow.

By ten o'clock, I am already wrapped up in the warmth of my quilts, alternating petting each snow leopard curled up on my bed, Whitefang and Yuki. Everything is quiet except for the low whistle of the wind outside and the soft purrs of the leopards —

"Lucrezia?"

The voice is muffled, but it's one of my sisters. Which one, I can't tell. (Damn, having the same voice is inconvenient sometimes.)

And then the door opens with a high-pitched creak, and my sister pokes her head into my room. "I need help," she says. The moment she speaks, Yuki and Whitefang sit up on the bed, their pale eyes fixed inquisitively on my sister. It's an odd behavior for them — they never perk up at the sight of Euley or Aellia.

My sister has blonde hair, not platinum like mine was before, but more of a yellow tone. It's a little embarrassing that I can't tell which sister she is — I have three identical for ripred's sake — so I make my best guess.

"Aellia?" I say, unwrapping the blankets from my body. "What could you possibly want this late at night? And where are your pets — ?"

"even stars burn out."

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afterthought ♢ sarasin Oct 4, 2016 11:41:44 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Oct 4, 2016 11:41:44 GMT -5

calanthia --

I've never had much room in my heart for love.

For caring, for trying; for my sisters, for Jannick. I've always had, this -- some something, a meaningless conversation, myself and trying to just be myself and I even fucked that up. My heart is unsteady, and I don't know if it's the murderer or the murdered that's making it hurt. I killed Jannick.

And I don't care any.

"Aellia?"

There's a pause, where I hold my breath and the flow of my lungs stutter. I shouldn't be here, it echoes in the room as easily as snow fall. I left on my own and came back the same; "What could you possibly want this late at night? And where are your pets -- ?"

"I-"

I left the ocelots; "it's Calanthia."

A dead name, it feels foreign so on my lips.

I left my ocelots at the apartments, wandering all but the locked bedroom; had to make sure they didn't wake Jannick. I feel sick, like collapsing again. "I need your help, I-" I killed somebody. I fucked up, I fucking carved open somebody's face and I need help, Lucy, I can't do this, I can't, I-

"I need your help throwing away something at my apartment."

[ ice cream ]

я𝑜𝓈𝑒
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afterthought ♢ sarasin Oct 4, 2016 13:01:15 GMT -5

Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Oct 4, 2016 13:01:15 GMT -5

L U C R E Z I A

S A R A S I N ;

"I — It's Calanthia."

And that is when my heart stops. It starts again, a little flutter of a beat — and stops again.

Thump thump thump.

Calanthia left nearly a year ago now. She left us behind, said "fuck you" to family and got a place of her own. I mourned her like she was dead — because to my family, she was — and I missed her, I missed her. But now here she is again, standing in my doorway. The sight of her twists a knife into my heart.

I blink in an attempt to clear the vision out of my head to make sure I'm not going insane. But Calanthia remains. "I need your help, I —" she begins, but the words die on her lips. There is something about the way she speaks that strikes a nerve in me, like she's holding onto hope for dear life. Her voice wavers, and I barely, in all these years I've known Cal, have ever heard her stammer like that.

There is something terribly wrong; I can feel it in my bones.

"I need your help throwing something away at my apartment," Calanthia finishes her broken sentence.

She's lying, I know. It may have been a year since I've seen her, but I know Calanthia. I know my sister.

And although I don't trust any of this, I say, just because I don't want her to go, "I'll help you, Cal. But you better explain more when we get there."

"even stars burn out."

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afterthought ♢ sarasin Oct 4, 2016 19:30:47 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Oct 4, 2016 19:30:47 GMT -5

calanthia --

We're exposed -- standing crooked between the threshold of the room and not; a murderer and a sheep. Lucrezia stares me in the eyes, dewy and snowy and I hold my own.

A murderer.

""I'll help you, Cal. But you better explain more when we get there."

Just another lion.

"It's just some bad meat," I say; my hand struggling to let go of the door know, afraid to fall again. Again, not right now at least, breathing hard enough, standing a challenge in itself. Strange how murdering some one wasn't the hardest part of this all.

"You might wanna bring the cats."

---

We talked little, the snow kissing our cheeks like freckles -- "I'm fine."

"Everything's fine."

It's all alright.

A short train ride, watching flakes clump onto the window -- I can hardly stay still. My hand shaking on the pole, my sister watching me and her leopards and my ocelots, shit.

"Welcome home, Lucrezia," clicking the door behind me. It smells like death, like the year's difference between Calanthia and Calan and pretending every day before that I was anything else -- "I uh,"

Shit, shit.

There's a fluttering in my chest, the sweat of my palms and nerves -- I can throw it. I should, my blood boils in my face, I've gotta tell her, huh. If she can't smell it, if she can't hear four ocelots stalking a closed door in the back of the room -- I killed Jannick.

I can say it I can say it I-

The smashed vodka, the bloodied hands, dirty sink, my own eyes and Jannick's carved face; my ripped shirt and dirty hair.

"It's, uh -- he's in the back room."

[ ice cream ]

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afterthought ♢ sarasin Jan 1, 2017 10:56:57 GMT -5

Post by я𝑜𝓈𝑒 on Jan 1, 2017 10:56:57 GMT -5

L U C R E Z I A

S A R A S I N ;

"It's just some bad meat," she says uneasily. "You might wanna bring the cats."

Bad meat? I gulp. Normally, I would question the situation and continue to pry at my sister for answers, but I can see the urgency in her eyes. There is something wrong. So I don't ask yet. I just round up Aurora and Pire and walk out the door with Calanthia.

. . .

On the way there, as the snow kisses our noses and nests on our eyelashes, she insists that she's fine every time I ask her, leading me to the conclusion that no, she is not fine.

Once we've arrived, she says, "Welcome home, Lucrezia." Hardly — she is the one who ran away. But I keep my mouth shut, for now.

When she opens the door, a wave of death hits me — literally. The smell is so foul that it feels like a punch in the nose, and I hold my breath immediately to evade having to breathe it all in. Even the snow leopards are wrinkling their noses and taking a step back.

I turn to her, with eyes bright with panic and worry. What did you get yourself into, Cal? My answer lies in the house. She leads me inside, and my eyes zero in on the smashed bottles that glint in the light. A grim feeling washed over me: I think I know what happened here.

"It's uh — he's in the back room," Calanthia says, confirming the suspicions I had prayed were not the truth.

"He?" I exclaim, and pull Calanthia back towards me by the collar of her shirt. "I came all the way with you here. You said you'd explain when we got here — well, we're here. What the fuck happened, Cal?" Although my voice is stern, my words hold sympathy — I hope.