Chioniphobia

Bird

I envy her.

She is beautiful, bright and iridescent, flitting on the wind with wings strong as steel, though they look delicate as glass.

(I am not beautiful. I am dark, birthed of shadows and decay. My wings were black as a raven's, with long ragged feathers no matter how much I groomed. Under the feathers, you could see the harsh shapes of bone showing through thin white flesh.)

(I miss my wings)

She is powerful, a commander of armies, skilled with countless blades. Her kind were made to be warriors, formed from the little birds that drink the nectar of flowers. You can see it in their jeweled feathers as they dance through the air, hypnotizing. Their enemies were often so entranced by their beauty that no resistance was given as they struck the killing blow.

(I was not made. I have always been, as long as there has been life. I flew like a vulture, circling my prey until they were ready to be plucked apart by my talons. My enemies freeze in my presence, their awe built upon fear, their eyes wide with terror.)

(Yet still they have never seen my tears)

She is kind, a generous heart that bleeds too much. She sees the suffering of mortals and longs to soothe their many hurts. She strains to alleviate their pain as best she can.

(I sympathize with them, sometimes, the mortals struggling aimlessly in a world that feels disinclined to give them direction. I do not try to carry their burdens: I have my own to bear. I do not pity them, because to pity them would be to see them as incapable of handling their own hurt. Humans are short-lived, but they are not helpless whelps. They can carry their own burdens without being crushed.)

(Which may be more than I can say for myself)

I see her look down at me, as she flits by. I see her blazing, an emerald fire, but her eyes are wet when she looks at me.

(Don't pity me)

(Don't remind me how pitiful I am)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tooth looks down at the Reaper from above.

She's staring up at her, as always, eyes burning hatred at the fairy. Her mouth is set in a grim line, which Tooth supposes is appropriate. Tooth prefers the hard-set scowl over the Reaper's grin anyway- at least with the scowl you can judge what kind of mood she's in. The smile has too many facets: whether a genuine expression of amusement, a resigned acknowledgement of a situation, or a mask for simmering anger, she never can tell. Sandy can tell the difference, and she suspects Bunny might be able to (although he's never confirmed her suspicions). North can at least single out when the Reaper is feeling wonder. Tooth, though? Tooth is completely in the dark when it comes to Grim. She only knows that Grim hates her, though as to why she has no idea.

Maybe it's because Grim knows that Tooth is afraid of her? Technically, Tooth doesn't really have a reason to be afraid- she's immortal, always has been- but she is. Part of it is fear on behalf of her girls, whose fear of Death has actual motivation beyond "She's scary."

(she watches them bleed out helplessly, tears blurring the sight of their broken bodies)

(the moon shines a little brighter)

("I can save them," he tells her, "but there will be a price to pay")

("Anything. Anything to save them," she says.)

(She sees their bodies rise, though their wings aren't moving, sees them change and shrink)

But most of it is just pure cowardice. Or maybe cowardice is the wrong word- she's intimidated, perhaps? She has good reason for that, at least. Grim is very intimidating. All sharp angles coating with flowing black, not unlike Pitch.

Pitch, however, does not possess empty hollows for eyes with ghostly lights for pupils. Pitch does not have thin, thin white skin that shows off the shape of the bones underneath. Pitch's teeth are crooked and strange, but human, not predatory points lined in perfect rows.

(Tooth wonders about Grim's teeth, sometimes, wonders what memories of eons past they could hold)

She realizes belatedly that she's staring at Grim, now, has been for a while. She hasn't been blinking- she wipes at her watering eyes and flies away, feeling two white lights burn into her back.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I watch her go.

I watch her go, and realize my own eyes are filling with tears as if to imitate her.

(Do not pity me)

(They have never seen my tears)

(They never will)

(I will never let you see me cry)

(I'll save my tears for when I'm alone)