Better as Bones

Idyll - VIII

Briar

The body I have been living with since my birth has been one of many misfortunes. Bruises and scars and bloodied scrapes. I bear the memories of pain, painted on my flesh. Never once have I wanted these scars I did not cause. Never once have I regretted the ones I did.

But the scars placed paint, birthed by my own, are never as painful as the ones not. I caused them myself, yes, but I did so willingly and of my own accord. I hate the memories tied to them. I hate the emotions drawn in the lines. But the lines are so few, only wrist and scalp, that my mind does not waver when my eyes meet them.

I hate them perhaps, or indifference takes hold. One I have been acquainted with many times, and one not so. Indifference is a field of tall grasses obscuring my vision. And with hate, I have a path.

Hate scorches my throat until blisters pop and burn. Hate builds inside of my body until it crowds my vision and all I see is that path through the field. Foot tracks and deer trails are nonexistent with hate in my veins.

Indifference throws me in, stripped-eyed and confused. I would love to say it makes it easier, but I have never seen the grasses up close, for they all look sharp.

My body is hollow. Neither hate nor indifference. Neither love nor passion. It allows my thoughts to be captive with privy of sight, with privy of these flickering emotions that keep my lungs ablaze and eyes stinging with color. And then it snacthes them away and leaves me heavy-limbed and void.

I wonder why I feel this so often.

The Solar Market is hollow when I visit. The bustling bodies and shouts of merchandise do nothing to rouse my spirit. The streets of the shopping district is hollow. Children smiling at their parents, friends laughing with each other, do nothing. And the palace that did nothing but suck out the last of my fever-headed emotions.

I keep my feet moving as I sit on the roadside. People still move along past me, oblivious to my life and who I am. Shopping districts never fail to make me feel small. I don't know if it's frightening or comforting.

Sunlight drips through the leaves, pushing over the building's edges. It spills out onto the street where two young friends stop to look up at the blaze of jasper. One points above their head, mouth moving with soft words.

My lips press together as my feet still.

These friends, in their place I see Bastet and myself. Tet would be there with me, their hand touching mine as I whisper of colors in the sky. It hurts me still, albeit this hollowness, to know they are out there somewhere. To be aware of their presence in this world but not see them myself.

I don't like it. I don't like this hurt that spreads through my chest. Tears prick my eyes with all these idyll moments. They're fantasy to keep myself afloat.

The friends turn their heads and hurry to the side of the street as a girl comes barreling down, yelling out in joy. Her hand stays raised as she leads a dragon of water above the heads of so many. She twists mid-air, jumping as others lift their hands to brush the underbelly. A boy comes tumbling after her, arms outstretched as he shouts for her.

My vision goes black as my face tucks into my knees. Footsteps thunder past, echoing explosions in my ears. I look up, my vision catching the tied up bone-hair. She wears a dark covering, her nose and mouth obscured from vision. It drapes with the rest of the covering, resting bunched on her shoulders as she hurries past. It tapers off at her knees, giving way to tightened brown pants and thick-soled boots.

I rise, my hands pushing past others as I hurry. She seems determined all the same, slinking through the crowd with such elegance and speed I surely would have mistaken her for Solar Market scum if not I knew.

I reach out, my fingers brushing her elbow. She spins, hands reacting before her mind. Her palm slams into my stomach as her forearms presses my throat. I choke on air, squeaking as my hands grasp her arm. She hisses before she lets go of me, allowing me freedom from the crush of the wall.

"What now?" Avalynn hisses, her eyes in a roll. I rub my throat where her arm was pressed. I clear my voice.

"Why are you here? Queens are not allowed passage through the streets without guard." Avalynn eyebrows lay flat on her eyes.

"And how do you know so much?" She snaps. I purse my lips.

"You forget I was working under your mother," I say. Avalynn draws down her covering, her nose scrunched as she bears her teeth.

"Ah yes, I forgot you are a murder. How silly of me," She says, voice dripping in sweetness that could make you sick. "I am here to collect my belongings." I harden my gaze. She slips the covering back over her face as she walks through the alley she pulled us into. I follow, close behind.

"I didn't know you lived out here," I say, my legs piercing with aches as I walk alongside her. Avalynn glowers.

"Seems you do not know a lot, hm?" She turns at me, her eyes pleased. I stifle a scoff. She leads me down a broken road, patches of grass shooting up in scraggles. Buildings lock us in on this path. My eyes bleed from all the jagged edges in the concrete and window panes. Avalynn steps over them easily.

I hesitate before the building she stands in, running across a deserted road. It's stories tall, each and every window shattered. Every miniscule brick dust.

Her eyes steady on me before she spins, ducking beneath the collapsing entrance. Footsteps patter my brain mush as I trail. Inside, dust clogs my throat, suffocating me. Avalynn waits on the stairs up. I follow.

Each floor we pass is deserted, nothing but broken machines of the echoes of lives once lived. She stops on our fifth flight.

The floor is empty besides a thin mattress and piles of boxes surrounding. The bed's blankets are crumpled, used from worn sleep. Avalynn brushes the edge of the bed, picking up a leaf-sized satchel of violet velvet from a box. She cradles it in her hands, it pressed to her fluttering heart. I watch as she grimaces, her emotions turning away from my sight.

Even still, I watch as the muscles in her back contract with pain. Her elbows tuck in, her head dipped down.

I don't near her. I stay at the stairwell's entrance.

Avalynn turns, her eyes sudden fire. My stance widens.

"Fine," She snaps, her hands clutching the satchel. "I'll set you up a room." My throat closes as she brushes past me. "Take that box." She points to the box the satchel called home. My arms wrap underneath it, heaving with effort. I swallow hard as I follow her, the hot itch of tears scratching my eyes.

Avalynn changed her mind.

So why can't I feel joy? Where is the warmth promised to me of good things? Why do I only feel the heat of frustration? I don't understand. Where is it? Where is it?

"Thank you," I murmur as she sweeps down the stairs. I can't bring myself to utter her name.