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Chapter 6: The Unbearable Lightness of being
🕑 Added 2024-04-09 18:37:14 +0000 UTCA meeting between the head of the houses and the Headmaster had been called. Usually, it was something that happened only in the worst cases outside of their regular monthly meetings like with the introduction of the new DADA teacher.
Minerva had been the one to call it and Pomona wondered the reason why her old friend had done so as she waited for the Headmaster to arrive.
The last time they had such a meeting, it had been because of Cedric’s Death. It made her anxious, fearful.
Minerva had been silent, unwilling to share the reason why she had summoned them until the Headmaster appeared.
Pomona hoped it was due to something simple or a misunderstanding. She had already failed Cedric and she hadn’t been able to become as close as she wished she could be to Rias, the new younger DADA teacher.
The girl, she felt broken, more like a spectre, an afterimage of something that had once been glorious. Each time Pomona looked at her, it felt as if she was watching a star that had decided to collapse on itself.
Hopefully, the cause of the meeting wouldn’t be a grievous one and if it was the case, she hoped it would be a problem that would be relatively easy to handle.
She turned her attention toward the other heads of the Hogwarts houses. Severus looked as door as ever as if he was a vampire forced to walk in the sunlight.
Filius, his arms crossed looked pensive, introspective. It was something that was becoming a pattern and it had begun with the inclusion of the new DADA professor.
A sound not dissimilar to a roaring fire made itself known as the Headmaster appeared before them.
The warm gaze of Dumbledore fell on them “Sorry for being late. I had to meet with the minister regarding some things but I'm now there. Minerva,” the old wizard spoke before sitting on his chair-like throne “The floor is yours.”
“I want you to banish the girl from Hogwarts.” Minerva’s voice was cold, so cold it felt as if Pomona was in the middle of an ice storm. Minerva McGonagall was angry, more than Pomona thought it was possible for the Gryffindor Head to be.
The girl, Minerva had spoken of a girl. She probably spoke of Rias. Today was supposed to be the first day the girl would be teaching and if Pomona wasn’t wrong, the ones she was supposed to teach today were some of the Gryffindor and Slytherin students.
There had been an endless amount of past DADA professors that Pomona would politely call not qualified enough. Even then, The two best teachers of the class had been a Death eater in disguise whom she hadn’t had the luck to personally kill and Remus Lupin, a werewolf.
Pomona knew even before Dumbledore said anything that he wouldn’t agree with the demands of Minerva. Even then, Minerva thinking a teacher should be fired the first day was more than damning. Pomona knew Minerva had loathed Gilderoy Lockhart since the beginning yet she hadn’t suggested firing him the first day.
“Do you know what she did Albus?” the Gryffindor witch asked the Headmaster. She didn't wait for him to answer “She murdered them,” she said and Pomona felt her heart freeze in fear. Murder them? She had killed some of their students? They had failed again? She had failed her students again?
“That thing killed them all, killed students in a place of learning, In a place where they should be perfectly safe!”
Filius Flitwick's eyes had widened at the words of the Gryffindor witch. More than that, the wizard with goblin ancestry looked scared. Nothing that they could do he knew would be able to work against the monster in the shape of a girl. Worse, provoking her and causing her displeasure was something they couldn't afford.
He hated, hated the fact that innocent students could be hurt without consequences but was it a good idea to provoke something that could be the end of them all? Was it better for thousands to suffer just because of the death of a dozen of students? This was the sin of the weak, compromising your morals. They had brought near their youngs a wolf hoping the wolf wouldn’t follow its nature.
The eyes of Severus Snape narrowed. Minutes before entering the headmaster's office, he had seen the retreating form of Draco Malfoy, his godson. The boy had looked shaken but he wasn't dead which means there was something wrong with the words of the Gryffindor witches.
More than that, the woman reminded him of someone he had lost. He hoped it was wrong because he didn't think he would be able to hurt someone looking like her.
With a sigh, Dumbledore removed his glasses before putting them on the table. “You see Minerva. I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts and it isn’t a title devoid of meaning, of gravitas. If a student had died in Hogwarts, I would have known, immediately but I can see that you’re not lying. There’s something you’re omitting. You brought us all here Minerva,” he said his voice devoid of his usual grandfatherly warmth. “Speak.”
“The students,” the Gryffindor witch spoke less confidently due to the tone of the headmaster. Dumbledore had lost his patience and they all knew it. “They told me she appeared them somewhere else where they had to face a white beast, a creature called Mahoraga. They fought against it and died before being brought back to life by her. I know they didn't lie, Albus! The shock, the emptiness in their eyes Albus, I saw it on the faces of war veterans! Students shouldn’t look like this,” she finished softly her tone, a plead to the headmaster, one he recognized and dismissed.
“You leave me sceptical, Minerva. You said they were brought back to life, Minerva. Such magic, such power is one even divine beings rarely wield in the myths. It could be an illusion. Merlin knows some illusions can be terrible things. I knew of a Japanese sorcerer who was capable of trapping someone in an illusion that would seem to last three days for the victim when in reality, only seconds have passed.”
“Even then,” the warlock continued before he could be interrupted “Even though our children being hurt leaves a bad taste in my mouth, in the case this is truth, I wouldn’t do anything, Minerva.”
“They are children Albus!” the Gryffindor witch shouted in indignation.
“And children die, Minerva!” The air of the office of the Headmaster became oppressive at his words. It felt hard for Pomona to breathe. It's as if she was lost in the middle of an ocean of power and on the verge of drowning in it. Children die had the headmaster said.
It felt as if the man was mocking Pomona, as if he had plunged a dagger into her heart. The words, they weren’t only directed at Minerva. They were directed at all of them and they were cruel.
Dumbledore, it was the first time Pomona had heard him raise his voice. It was the first time she had truly seen him angry and it was terrifying.
Gone was the image of the old man who seemed inoffensive. Now what was left was a man worthy of the title of warlock, the man who defeated a dark lord and was feared by another one.
“Children die Minerva! Children die because they are helpless! Children die because the world itself is cruel! It is cruel?! Undoubtedly but children die Minerva! Myrtle Warren! Marlene Mckinnon! Lily Potter!” Snape flinched at the name as if he had been struck.
“James Potter!” The headmaster turned to look at her “Cedric Diggory!” he spoke and she felt her rage and hatred at the injustice of his death uncover like a disgusting abscess full of maggots.
“They all died when they shouldn’t have. Each day, each day, I wonder if things wouldn’t have been better if something was different, if they had been taught better, if they were stronger.”
It was also something Pomona wondered those days. Could she have been better? Should she have been better? How could she have been better?
The fire seemed to have gone away leaving behind an old man, a tired old man. “I don’t like to hear that they were hurt, that they suffered but I prefer temporary suffering to Death so no Minerva, I won’t try banishing her. Even if I had the power, I wouldn’t do so Minerva because she can make sure that there would be students angry at me, students who hate me in the future instead of students I have to attend the funerals.”
“When did everything change so much Albus? Why did things have to come to become this way?” the Gryffindor witch asked the Headmaster.
A humourless smile bloomed on the face of the old man “Things had always been like that Minerva. It's just that we never noticed until it was too late, until our ivory towers cracked and could be toppled like kings of old. Power has always been the answer and unfortunately, we do not have a monopoly on it anymore.”
“You’re kind Minerva, all of you are kinder than me,” the man spoke with a soft smile as his gaze travelled to each of them.
“It doesn’t feel this way Albus,” the Gryffindor witch spoke.
“How does it feel?” he asked her.
“Excruciating,” she replied. “My brain understands the logic in your words but my heart, my heart only wants to spit on everything you just said.”
The Gryffindor Witch turned away from the man “Is it how you always feel? So disgusted and hopeless?”
The other teachers stayed silent waiting for the words of the headmaster. Pomona felt as if she was intruding, as if she was listening to something intimate, something she shouldn’t have.
“Yes,” the wizard answered, a tremor in his voice, a glimpse of something more but restricted.
“Then, maybe you were right,” the Gryffindor witch spoke her voice eerily devoid of any heat “I should have listened to your words last time. You're not the man I thought you were.”
The Gryffindor witch opened the door “I'll listen to you. This will be the last time I'll complain to you about her. She can kill if she wants, butcher, hurt and do the most ignominious sins before my eyes. I won’t say anything. I’ll even smile. I'll let her do anything necessary.”
“Minerva, I…I am sorry.”
“You don’t have to be Albus. I would say may the Gods help us,” the Witch spoke. For a moment, Pomona swore that under the magical candlelights, the shadow of Mcgonnagall had changed, a feline beast, jaw opened to devour them all.
“But God is here and she only brings more cruelty,” and with those words, the Gryffindor witch left.
“Don’t worry Albus,” the Half Goblin Professor said to the Headmaster. His features may have seemed flawless, devoid of any emotions but his eyes, eyes never lied Pomoma could only see in them sadness. “I'm sure she'll understand.”
A chuckle escaped from the lips of the Headmaster “My old friend. I fear that she already does.”
The eyes of Dumbledore clouded as if he was remembering something. “Headmaster? Are you alright?”
The words surprisingly came from Severus Snape. The man seemed as shocked as Pomona to him being the one saying them.
“Just an old man remembering past things my boy. I had a friend once. Sometimes, when we were younger, we liked to go explore, search for magic in all its forms. He thought magic was in everything, in the air we breathe, in the Earth even in plays. He loved them and couldn't help but drag me to each of them with him. Even though we're not able to do so anymore, It is today a dear memory. Four years ago while travelling in America due to some of my duties, I fell on a Muggle play. I had found it mostly boring to be honest until one part that even today, I remember and found it fitting. Do you know what were the words?”
Pomona shook her head and the two remaining teachers copied her. Dumbledore had always been someone she would not call secretive but he always seemed as someone larger than life. He had seemed perfect even after Cedric’s death but since Rias, the girl with too much power, divinity incarnate in the shape of a broken girl, he had changed. It's not as if he wasn’t the same Dumbledore. It's not as if he wasn’t the most powerful wizard of the last century. No, Dumbledore felt human.
“God splits the skin with a jagged thumbnail from throat to belly and then plunges a huge filthy hand in, he grabs hold of your bloody tubes and they slip to evade his grasp but he squeezes hard, he insists, he pulls and pulls till all your innards are yanked out and the pain! We can't even talk about that. And then he stuffs them back, dirty, tangled and torn. It's up to you to do the stitching,” the old wizard told them.
The quote was gruesome, evocative of disturbing thoughts and images yet she could see how from a point of view, it could perfectly describe their situation.
Things weren’t ideal. They were far from it and the Presence of Rias had so far only created tensions and possible problems they'll have to tackle in the future.
“And then up you get And walk around. Just mangled guts pretending,” the Headmaster finished his words feeling like a noose around her neck “That's how people change.”
scene
I was woken up by knocks on my door. I was sleeping. I was allowed for a moment to forget. For a moment, everything had stopped and the person on the other side of the door had dared rip me out of this tranquillity.
Rage, a rage so strong it felt as if I was being boiled from the inside surged. Just for an instant, I contemplated cruelty, barbary at its worst, one even I knew my ancestors would baulk at.
No, I couldn’t. I shouldn’t no matter how appealing it seemed especially with the fact that my senses recognized the person on the other side.
Being human was evidently different from inhabiting the flesh of a devil descending from the Ars Goetia but you never realize truly until moments like this.
It was easy to lose yourself in the intoxicating might, sweeter than any nectar or Ambrosia, in the power of shaping only with your will the universe.
It almost made you forget the finest details, the little differences. I could smell her. I could smell the scent left behind by the Earth on her even though I was sure that she had cleaned herself.
I could feel her emotions, almost as if they were meals just waiting to be taken and my smell didn't stop there.
I could hear her Heartbeat, the blood flowing through her body, the rustles on her clothes against her body, her synapses firing. I knew if I tried pushing if I didn't restrict my senses, I would be able to hear her thoughts without the use of magic.
Without opening my eyes, she was laid bare before me in her entirety. The woman on the other side of the door, Pomona Sprout didn't deserve my wrath.
Her smell, she smelled like a nun I once had taken in by family. She reeked kindness, good and I didn't want to bloody such thing.
I could smell Food, something that reminded me of past times when things were both easier and complicated, cooked and at the perfect temperature.
“Professor Rias!” she said on the other side of the door. “I noticed that you missed dinner so I decided to bring you something.”
“I could leave it at the door if you want,” The Hupplepuff Witch spoke even though she wanted nothing but to enter into my rooms, ensure I was okay. More than that, I had already read a mind once. I didn't know to read it now to know her motives.
She knew without a doubt what I was. She had an inkling of what destruction I could bring yet she still cared. She saw both the Daimom and Rias and she only wanted Rias to not collapse, fade away.
She felt as if she had failed. She felt as if she had failed Cedric and subconsciously, she saw helping me as a way to atone for what she considered a sin.
I should leave the door closed. With a spell, I knew I would be able to make myself unable to be disturbed.
What was the point of talking to her? What was the point of letting her try to fix someone who couldn’t be fixed because they didn't want to?
You can lead a horse to the river but you can’t force it to drink. Even then, wouldn't that be cruel?
I had only one long sure goal and it was dying. Letting someone get attached when you knew that sooner or later, you would undoubtedly sever the bonds created between the two of you was a cruel thing and I was tired, tired of failing myself and others, tired of being cruel.
Yet with a click, my door was unlocked, opening wide to let the witch on the other side enter.
I opened my eyes to the sight of the witch. She had put a plate on a table near my bed “I hope you like Quiche but if you don’t, it's fine. It wouldn’t be a problem at all, something else could easily be done!” she said almost frantically.
Slowly, my back left the comfort of the bed. I ignored the anxious gaze of the witch before me.
The golden and yellow Quiche was laid before me. With a flick of my will, a piece of it was cut away from the whole to travel in one of my hands before I took a bite.
It wasn’t something made by a supernatural being having honed their craft for longer than a human life. It wasn’t something I would have even called the best I had ever tasted in my past life, before Rias, before everything.
But this Quiche.
It tasted good. Just by tasting it, I could feel the efforts put into making it. “If you don’t like it, something else could easily be made just like this. It wouldn’t bother me,” the Hupplepuff witch repeated.
I took another bite “It is fine.” She had lied when she had said that the meal had been easily made.
No elf, no magic had contributed to the making of the meal I was eating. It had taken time and dedication. It had been made from her own hands.
This made it something I couldn’t, I wouldn’t refuse. It was an act of pure benevolence, of pure care so much that it felt like a prayer, an act of worship toward me.
“I'm glad you like it!” the Witch told me with a blinding smile.
“You’re not eating,” I pointed out after finishing the piece.
Pomona Sprout was a bad liar. I didn't need to be a devil to know this. The woman, I could see in her eyes had missed the dinner with the rest of the school while she had been making the Quiche.
At no moment had she thought of herself. Only now was she realizing, that hunger ate at her reason yet I saw an iron-clad resolution to make sure I was the only one partaking in the meal she had made.
“It is rude,” I spoke softly “To not partake in the food you brought.”
Maybe it was the case, maybe it wasn’t. I didn't really care. I just knew that those words would ignite the desire in her to not offend me which would make sure she ate with me.
Her eyes widened in alarm “I am sorry. I didn't want to be rude. It's just that I thought th-
I shut her up with a piece of quiche in the mouth. Surprise moved in acceptance before she bit into it, one of her hands grabbing it to make sure it wouldn’t fall on the ground.
I shaped my demonic energy, releasing it in a thin line in the middle of the meal dividing it in two.
I avoided her shining eyes, tried to not peer into her thoughts. Green, emerald green, why when watching Pomona Sprout, I could see her?
Maybe, maybe if I didn't, I wouldn’t. I hoped so. It was pathetic I know. All of this literally was! I was God! I could do everything yet why was I stuck feeling like nothing?!
We ate in silence, me doing my best to not glimpse at her and her not even trying to hide the fact she was doing so.
I realized with my hand moving subconsciously toward her side of the Quiche that I had already finished mine.
I removed my hand as fast as possible from the plate yet I knew that Pomona had seen it.
“You can take more of it if you want,” the woman told me. “Even though it may not seem like it, I quickly get full.”
“No, it's fine,” I told her this time looking her in the eyes even though there was nothing less than I wished to do. None of this was necessary. I just needed to wish it and I knew my demonic energy would force into existence something tasting better.
“Ok,” she said “but in case you want more, don’t hesitate. In the case it becomes cold, I know a spell that will heat it to perfection.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I fought myself from cringing. Yeah, totally smooth. It seemed I could feel other things than total emptiness.
She may have taken it in another way because I watched her stand up “It was a pleasure eating with you Professor Rias,” the Hupplepuff spoke.
I could see it In her eyes. She had thought I had grown displeased with her presence, that I had indicated that she had overstayed her welcome.
She was going to leave.
It was I wanted right?
Then what was that reluctance I was feeling?
I already knew myself how pointless, how useless it would be trying to acquaint myself, bond with her.
“You can stay for now if you want,” I told the woman.
A radiant smile bloomed on her face at my words. Such a smile, such a simple yet beautiful smile, deep down, I wanted to see it again.
She sat back in her chair. I could feel her gaze on me. It wasn’t like mine yet I felt as if my essence was being read.
“May I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
I gave her a nod already knowing the words that would come out “May I know more about you? The only thing I know is that your name is Rias, are one of my colleagues and are capable of incredible things. I can even begin. It would only be fair.”
“I was born from a Pure-blood family with no great prestige. I was the only child of my parents and due to this, I have to admit that they had spoiled me rotten. Many of the things I did would impress the Weasley twins but even with all of them, my parents never raised their voices, never used any spell on me with the intent to discipline me. They are one of the reasons why I chose teaching. When they died, I wanted to honour them so I became a teacher so that I could make others feel the same care and love they had for me.”
Things she feared deep down she didn't need to say yet that fear didn't paralyze her, change her behaviour.
I met her gaze and wondered. Should I answer? Wouldn’t that be counterproductive when the only thing I wished was not thinking about them, about what I gave up because of my cowardice?
“I have an older brother,” I said after a moment. With a burst of my demonic energy, an image of Sirzechs appeared like a floating hologram. I had one.
I scrunched my nose in distaste when I smelled it, coming from Pomona, lust. Lust had blossomed in her essence at the view of my brother before I felt her push it down. It was still there but fainter. I guess I should have expected it. He was a Satan after all. I wondered if she would still be feeling this way if the mask worn by my brother was shed to reveal the End behind.
She was blushing all of a sudden looking more like a teenage girl near her crush than a dignified older woman.
I guess I should have expected it. Sirzechs, he was smiling in the image, that kind of smile he made when he did something stupid and watching the image hurt as if my hurt was being boiled from the inside.
“I can see the resemblance,” she spoke after a moment. “Should we expect one day to welcome him to Hogwarts?” she spoke with too much hope in her voice. I could feel both excitement and fear.
“No, My brother would never come here,” I told her with certainty. Sirzechs had to deal with a new great war, one that was probably caused by my presence and more importantly, he already had another Rias. Why would he come here?
This was the deal after all. A new beginning for me and in exchange my life, Rias’ life for Sophia.
I imagined her hugging him, I imagined the members of my Peerage smiling at her instead of me. I imagined her, kissing Sophia. This had been my choice. This had been my decision yet why did it hurt so much?!
I felt something touch my face and I had to restrain myself from erasing it from existence when I realized it was Pomona’s hand.
Her hand was cupping the side of my face, one of her fingers wiping something liquid. A tear, I recognized.
A tear coming from me.
..
..
..
Was I crying? Was I crying because of an image? Could I be more pathetic? Could I be more embarrassing?
“I'm sorry,” I told her.
“Sorry? Sorry?” she repeated in disbelief. “You did nothing wrong Rias! I was the one who asked more about you! I am the one in the wrong here.”
No, those were words I couldn’t accept. She didn't know all the circumstances. At every level, it had been my fault.
She must have seen something in my gaze because a frown blossomed on her face “May I touch you?” I ignored how differently those words could have meant coming from the mouth of someone else.
I let my eyes flicker to her hand. She already was doing so “Yes,” I spoke softly before I felt arms enlace me. My head was pressed against her chest.
I felt like ironically like a sinner laid bare before the gaze of a divine being, like a sinner confessing at the altar “Things are never as they seem,” the Hupplepuff witch told me softly. “Crying is not a bad thing and if it was, it shouldn’t.”
“It's just…it’s just I feel aimless,” I admitted to the woman. I don’t know why I told her that. I don’t know why I felt so at ease with her.“Everything you think I can do is not even a hundredth of it. I can do everything.” I could have done everything. “Yet when I think of them, I only want to cry.”
“Your brother, Rias. Do you think he would like to see you cry? I don’t know how different relationships between gods and us humans are but something tells me that he loved you.”
“He did love me. Some would have said too much amongst our kind. He was the kind of person who would have literally taken the stars from the sky for me and I failed him. I told him I would be there, always there and I'm not! I chose to leave when he would have never done so in my place,” I whispered.
“I think that you want me to be angry at you. I think you want to be punished for what you believe you did wrong. Your brother? Did you wish to hurt him?”
“Never,” I immediately answered. Sirzechs, I had never wished to hurt him. I had spent only one month with him without the memories I had inherited from the Original Rias.
Sirzechs, he had been so easy to love. How couldn’t I when the care, the love he had for me was unconditional? We were family. Sirzechs, he made me believe in the word again.
“Then what is there more to say? No one is perfect even Gods it seems. Should we be judged when trying our best and finding it not enough?”
“I understand your words yet The emptiness I feel inside, I'm not sure that the idea of having tried my best would be enough.”
“This emptiness you feel inside Honey, there is a name to it,” the older witch spoke. “It is called Guilt. It is vicious, corrosive and cruel. It burns seemingly endlessly leaving nothing behind yet at the same time, it is a strong motivator. That guilt, it guides you doesn’t it?” she asked me. “I don’t know what's your goal here Dear but I know it is related to what you feel.”
“Are you going to tell me it is wrong?” I questioned her.
“No, It would be pure Hypocrisy coming from me. I just want you to think about when, you will reach your goal, how would you feel? What would be next?”
Nothing. There would be nothing after if I succeeded or maybe it wouldn’t be the case at all. I had been transmigrated in Rias without knowing how.
What said that I wasn’t the puppet of a superior being, one they used for means unknown to me?
“So what? I should stop? What should I do? What should I do?!”
I felt my head being moved. My gaze met hers, the magical lights giving an ethereal-like quality to her eyes. At that moment, she didn't look human. Pomona Sprout had looked divine “Maybe everything I just said was wrong. I'm only human but what I know that is never wrong is being kinder. Try being kind to yourself. Try being kind to the little sister your brother loved.”
scene
A girl walked barefoot, alone in Hogwarts in the night. She wore light clothes not appropriate for any protection against the cold of the night.
The girl walked barefoot, alone in Hogwarts in the night toward something she herself didn't know.
It was a whisper in the back of her head, a voice almost maternal guiding her. Hogwarts unravelled, opening hidden paths for the girl.
The girl walked all alone, cold yet strangely happy, eager. Things would be fine the girl was sure of.
Her feet stopped at the entrance of the Astronomy tower. The floor rippled around her as if to reassure her, promising her everything would be alright.
It was madness at its finest, following the whims of the unknown, of the arcane and the girl knew it deep down.
The same arcane had been the one to take from her something that had left a gap that couldn’t be mended no matter how much the girl tried to fill it.
Even then, the girl soldiered on, opening and stepping on the other side of the door. The gaze of the girl met divinity.
Even from the back, the girl recognized the girl or to be more accurate the being in the shape of an older girl.
Hair the colour of freshly spilt blood that flew like a canvas in the wind, a canvas depicting something she couldn’t grasp yet that was on the verge of her tongue.
“Hello, Professor,” the girl said as she walked to the side of the crimson-haired woman.
Close to her, the girl could only notice how more beautiful she was, a vision of beauty, of allure that could undoubtedly never be equalled by Mortals.
Appearance could be deceptive but the appearance of the woman only confirmed her otherworldliness.
The crimson-haired woman was looking at the moon and the girl wondered what terrible things travelled through her mind.
“Did you know that some cultures thought there were rabbits on the moon?” the crimson-haired asked the girl.
The girl recognized it, the game launched by the crimson-haired woman. The woman probably knew more about the girl than the girl knew herself.
“If it is true, I feel bad for them,” the girl answered.
The haunting eyes of the crimson-haired woman fell on the blonde girl. The eyes of the woman weren’t a colour that could be found in the mortal spectrum. They shone like the light of the being waiting to reap everyone at the end.
“Why?” the woman questioned. “Shouldn’t the rabbits be happy? All alone in a world of their choosing? One where their difference isn’t seen as lesser?”
“This is why I feel bad for them,” the girl answered without a hint of dread as she looked into the divine. “The rabbits, their decision, they would most likely never go back on it. They escaped for their differences and at the same time created a world where their differences became a part of normality.”
“Isn’t normality what every being aspires to?” the crimson woman questioned. “Normality, doesn’t it mean being safe?”
“Normality also means stripping everything making you unique. It is tearing and bleeding the colours of your soul until only a monotonous grey remains. Also maybe the Rabbits would have found with time other beings as different or maybe not that different who would have cared.”
“Maybe, they wouldn’t have,” the crimson-haired woman stated.
“Or maybe they would have,” the blonde-haired girl shrugged.
The woman continued looking at the girl, her shimmering eyes seeing, discerning things beyond the scope of the mortals.
“I came here searching for something interesting, maybe an answer, maybe a question or maybe nothing. I had found nothing and cruelty, deep and barbed had been travelling through my veins. I had thought about plucking the home of the rabbits from the Aether but seeing you, I think I wish for another moon.”
“Would you be mine?” the devil asked the blonde girl as she extended her hand to her.
At the edge of her vision, The girl thought of seeing a ghost, a mirage, curses that had opened so long ago and hadn’t smothered hope.
It didn't matter the girl thought. Not anymore as she took the hand of the devil and became hers in her entirety.
Comments
allen 1996
Yes, it is Luna. I hope I have been successful in characterizing her. I wanted instead of telling, implying how she felt
Antonio Adams
Loved it. Is the girl luna
LK123
Luna is always the answer
Jason Smith
Thanks for the chapter!
