#// makishima being the one of few to see sayuri without her binds

[usagimen]

                                     @achroanimus :    ❛ you don’t have to be afraid of who you are. ❜ // from fox bestie with a hug <3

               In pouring sunlight, the wisp of a shadow curls tightly, knees to chest && heavy breathing. Echoes, she can hear the restless voices among those who gossip softly; though she makes little sense of their nonsensical ramblings. Every wound has been meticulously cared for, the ache that spreads within the chest, it does not subside. She wonders, when will it end? Pulsing hot, like a white flame && penetrating into the confines of her sternum, wrought iron that twists as if to evescrate the still beating heart. It never served her well to begin with, what is the point? He towers over her, perfect in ivory, albeit slightly marred. Every aunt fawns upon him, cooing && awning in spectacular glory, meanwhile, the depth of emerald hues latch onto gold. “A-ah, you don’t need to check on me so frequently” she hates the fretting, the constant remarks or cries that shriek in a shrill voice, the beloved moon could have vanished. Always a jagged thing, too sharp to love, too cold to possess, even when her love stood shattered into shards - she could never admit it. Lovingly, a set of bandages sits upon a lacquered tray, scissors to cut && the binding begins once more. Arguments break out more than usual, the viper’s shoulders remain heavy, order she urges - order in the midst of tremendous loss, their world will remain unscathed while the rest shall plunge itself into the abyss.

      What is the point of containing a God? Those who challenge utter despair, if the heavenly being is now encumbered, there was no point for an old regime that never served them, never blessed them, they should cut their losses from this vile realm && remain hidden amongst the weeping wisteria. “It’s so unbelievably noisy, for once I should have taken refuge with the Zen’ins, the lot can give less than a damn we’ve lost the Honored One” a clever lie, she wishes to seep into the confines of the underworld, escaping in the midst of an endless winter that felt like home, ice that runs thick within the blood. Shikomi’s with their bland visages, monochrome in colors all speak in timid voices, the question is irritating - will the God Hand recover swiftly? How dare they view her as salvation, an answer to their misguided prayers, holy.

        “You’re quite brazen, showing your face when the objective failed, we know our enemy yet the cost was significant” her tongue lashes out not in ire or boundless fury, grief, overwhelming mourning that cannot be contained && must be spun into a torrent of gritted teeth. He always had an uncanny ability, the most empathetic being she has ever crossed, the cruelest being to ever flash their teeth && peel away bit by bit all she kept secret. Does he know she keeps shattered glass to her chest? Laced in crimson, the wiring has all but been distorted && the memory remains the same; gentle souls cannot thrive in this world, but she was monstrous, even in youth her melancholy laugh echoed, I will be the blade - you will never know suffering while I stand. Dreams of sapphire waters, sea salt brining her lungs, come quickly && vanishing just as fast. She wishes to grab him, unleash a caustic poison, maybe then the eloquently numb sensation would trickle back into the marrow. Instead, her petite form unravels, “I am not afraid, I am lost. Even in girlhood, the notion of delicateness was foreign, but I would not become another idle beauty that ensnared her prey. Instead, I would grow to be steel, sharp as the knife to be held by those who I love” a futile mistake, one she would regret. “They refused && for that, I should have cursed them” scornful, she could never be such a thing, even if she feebly tried to convince him it was possible, her morality would not allow it.

      “The fox survives, fleeing from ruination, yet I am heavy with the knowledge this shall not be the last we know of strife” a few stray tears, they slip down the smoothness where bone should protrude. Bruised hands, battered fingers, thousands of times broken && each one, put back together. They reached for him, fear kept her moving, fear was the only thing that held the thin veil of vice && virtue. “You are always too kind, too warm, would you stay with me?” swallowing the pit within her throat, she laughs softly.

                         “You who is the sun, indulge the moon just this once, the lonesome sky for which I dwell is all too much”

#––– ❛ answered ask 【 running from wolves. 】 #achroanimus #// makishima being the one of few to see sayuri without her binds #// how even when she's grieving she still reaches for his hand #// the tenderness in how she views him as a comforting light #// though instead of resigning herself to the darkness she reaches for the day in him ;A; #// it's the only variation of the sun and moon together since they are platonic soulmates #// though she is an emotional mess she still speaks to him truthfully / vulnerably / and sincerely #// crying deep she doesn't know how to convey: if only I was more selfish / if only I could speak without a second too late #// and it's her love for him that makes her vulnerable heLP I AM EMO