So tragic.
The slash of one’s sword on concrete, scratching the snowy road, spirits using their inaudible vocal chords to reach the haunted realms of the heavens. What just happened?
Glitter in the air, sparkly, slow and soothing. Sweet on the taste buds. Breathe in, breathe out.
She is reticent, great with shocking optimism yet her façade is exhausted. Flesh scarred with fresh wounds, her bones stutter and ache within every move she constructs, threatening to crack and shatter like glass.
Her fingertips – kissed by the hard-hearted weather, waiting to be put together. Freezing her to her ribcage. Breathe in, breathe out – ouch.
Her shoulders high, no time for stooping. Stay awake, stay awake. Breathe in, breathe out – ouch.
She is dying. I’m dying, I’m dying. She is dying. She is dying. I’m dying.
Am I not?
But it stops there.
Her alive, beating, beautiful heart, warm and thumping with adrenaline, is caged – locked – like a wild animal in the only thing that keeps her moving. The only thing that keeps her breathing like she should. The only place where she can really find her strength:
Hope. It is a dangerous thing.
It echoes inside her emptiness, bringing contentment. Her wild, wide, crazed, open eyes glow with it – hope. Her lips are dry yet firm with the word – hope. Her ears are deaf with the wails of it – hope. She can’t stop thinking about it –
hope.
She’s back in the game.
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