𝗠𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗲 BOOK 1
『I'm tired of seeing a world full of itself. Why can't you understand that there's no black or white?』
Sakura never thought she would die that way.
She would think she'd die on the battlefield or even die, saving her teammates. Wha...
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A white long smoke tickled her nose. Breath pale against the numbing air, she blinked her green eyes thoughtfully as the frost patiently kissed her face, captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat heavy on her eyelashes. She adored the snow, more so when it was falling.
The snow comes, white and glistening, erasing the troubles beneath, directing her toward a new and more positive day. The coldness only crispens up her resolve to find love today. Perhaps in this swirling perfect whiteness that gives crystalline kisses, the coolness in the air will rejuvenate her soul, elevate her spirit and give her new reasons to step forward with confidence.
It might be just winter but there is beauty in it, clarity, the kind of thinking that lets her notice small details like how the trees though bare have the promise of spring within them, like the creator Himself lies dormant in the branches, ready to burst forth and greet the world with joy.
Sakura walks, chakra circulating deep inside her abdomen, keeping her warm from the harsh cold season.
Winter is such crystalline joy and a pain at the same time.
Those brilliant rays that show the uniqueness of every snowflake. It is the time of puddles that become transient skating rinks and for her thoughts to remain cozy within her mother's knitted scarf. It is the time when the sunniest of days are warm even in when she can see her breath rise as neat and pure vapour. It is the days of quiet poetry forming in her soul as if it calls to the spring flowers that will soon blossom.
Under a dove grey sky, the colours of her world don their winter coats, each hue darker and richer than before. The path sparkles and crunches, like sugar underfoot, and the coolness brings me right into the now, into the moment of life. Though the flowers sleep and the trees show their lofty arms once more, a smile plays upon these cold lips. For as much as she love the summertime — in which where she could inhale the wooden smell she misses dearly around her and not the polluted smoke — she love the winter too. For every perfume of the meadow, there is the earthy loam of the newly-lit forest floor.
The air is frozen lace on her skin, delicate and cold, like winter waves on sallow sand. The sky is washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance.
In some moments she is watching her boots over the frozen sidewalk, perfect concrete slabs, flat and square, and in others transfixed to the interplay of cloud and sun above. For some reason her mind conjures a stone mosaic made beautiful by the shards of a mirror and she want to keep her eyes heaven bound while her imagination makes them one thing.
