i haven’t been on here much bc i haven’t had the muse but i’m gonna draft some starters + replies throughout today &. tomorrow. msg me if you wanna plot ! i might reblog my starter call when i get caught up !
shock registers upon her face so openly that she nearly collapses from the sensation throughout her body: twisting her expression from the happy one she had been wearing to one of bafflement. she cannot look evenly at this stranger. “ mom… —ma? ” panic floods her system. “ i couldn’t have a child… i am one… ” plus she would remember having a child, right? there were only a few instances that she knew of of people not remembering having a child &. those were either fictional characters or mere rumors. she could not have missed a pregnancy. “ just… —what? ”
unknowingly she affixes her lips against his pallor skin of his hand. nohrian dance customs are foreign to her, especially since her older siblings had been the ones who needed to learn how to dance &. to scrutinize the customs &. cultures of other areas. upon him kissing her own hand once the dance was complete, she returned the affection out of ignorance. nonetheless, his expression causes her to light up brilliantly, ducking her head to steal her gaze away from his.
“ sorry about that… ” she mutters to the floor moreso than leo.
oftentimes her body attacks itself; it turns the battle inward &. her heart &. her lungs externalize it once again. gasping for air, she is akin to a fish out of water as she fights past the invisible resistance residing upon her chest. her lungs are in a vice grip that she cannot pull away from &. it had only been her first battle. she was supposed to feel exhiliration &. pride in her country, but instead, she felt fear that struck her to her core &. made her feel outside of herself. anxiety attacks such as these usually were contained happenings before the war. no one knew of them aside from hinoka &. azura. she spent an excruciatingly large amount of time hiding away the extent of her anxiety.
tsubaki’s hands are near, but will not touch her. he is not clueless in his moment yet he does not know how to proceed. he instructs her to take deep breaths, but she feels herself getting light-headed, about to float away the more she follows those instructions. instead, she continues to gasp &. flounder around until she feels like the weight upon her chest is lightening, then she works on taking deep breaths. he’s beside her, but she has walked herself through most of this.
so long as she does not close her eyes &. face the image of all that death, all that blood &. gore, then she will be able to push forward. she does not realize that she’s crying until she opens her eyes to see tsubaki, to feel tsubaki brushing his thumb across her cheeks, swiping away stray tears. her breath hitches in her throat &. she sniffs. “ tsubaki… ” she sobs, leaning forward to press her forehead against his. his name is on her tongue &. is intoxicating, sweet. she does not know how many times it is verbalized, but she knows that she cannot stop saying it. he’s the only anchor that she has within this moment.
finally, she calms down again, her ragged breath touching his lips.
her lips detour away from his, then touch gently against his cheek; her eyes close &. tears like rain drip upon his skin &. she can taste it upon her lips. she pulls away, but does not meet his gaze. never has she felt frailer.
darkness has befallen the world that encapsulates them. he looks to her for the guidance that she cannot give; her hands feel as empty as they could ever be. the staff she grips is useless to a corpse, to a rotting body. tears well at the corners of her eyes &. drip down her cheeks in the most forlorn beauty. her heart breaks within her chest even while forrest is holding small palms to the pieces to patch it up again. he’s old enough to know, but not understand. never has he seen death so close. the death had been as unexpected as the murderer. the kingdom of nohr once again starts to collapse upon himself &. forrest is too young to take upon the crown.
“ what happened to papa? ” comes his small, lilting voice from her hip. his arms are clutching around her legs &. he knows that something is wrong. the response that she wants to give to forrest is replaced by a choked noise of pain. she feels as though she’s the one to have her neck slit &. body hung for all to see. her hands are shaking much too badly to cover his eyes.
there is a moment before she starts screaming, then there is no moment afterwards. the world seemingly stops as the sun sets upon nohr. how will she be able to utter the words to camilla? how would she be able to do anything that wasn’t scream until her blood stained her lungs, stained her tongue, stained her hands. she feels the guilt choking her yet she can breathe fine. even though peace existed between the kingdoms, she could not help but think that it was because he had taken a hoshidan as bride that someone had lashed out this way. there was no rationalizing this bloodshed.
she thought the war was over.
drawing her from her thoughts, from her screams, comes the lightest touch upon her wrists as forrest tugs her away from the scene. his voice is small &. he is mumbling to her, but she is worlds away from him, from herself. existing within this bubble of semi-consciousness, she attempts to find peace of mind in order to hold herself together for him. forrest’s hands are sweet are they push away her hair, push away her tears. finally, she breaks out of her reverie &. takes his hands into hers &. kisses them desperately. even if she had just lost leo, there was no way that she was also going to lose forrest. her hands are of guidance &. protection as she holds him close &. falls apart once again, body shaking.
stumbling upon words, over feet, with hands that are not yet knowing of the world &. how to act within it. both of them know the missteps that they take &. where their feet may land, what their mouths may say.
currently both of them are within the mess hall. it is an escape from their duties; it allows them to breathe as they sit there &. speak openly with one another. neither of them comments on one another’s strange intakes or stuttering tongues. they smile &. laugh; they are allowed to be the young girls that they are. laughing freely with a shaking frame, sakura leans in close. happiness is transferred via touch. her forehead against felicia’s &. then her lips are grazing against her nose.
from her fingers she spun nightmarish tales of lore that she had gathered within her arms. she was a spinster who weaved together tales of this &. that until sakura was shaking in fear, until she was short of breath &. gripping with whitened knuckles to the ending of the story. her face naturally flushes with anxiety, with frustration, with fear as azura tells her stories before bedtime &. then opens her arms to allow sakura to spend the night within her room instead. azura spins tales of the monsters, then she single-handedly takes them all down. it is a good talent in an older sister.
bestowed upon her is the gift of the pen. her own tongue betrays her when she tries to tell azura stories that are much lighter than hers; therefore, instead, when she can no longer share her stories with azura, she simply writes them down &. addresses them to her. the motions that accompany writing to sakura are warm; they allow her to cling to a dangerous unreality. they allow her to think that azura has only found her way back home, that azura may one day respond to her letters.
shakily, she folds the paper &. slides the letter closer to her. lips upon paper, she imbues it with love, with solace.
atop his head is it placed, the lightest of touches as she notices that he has fallen asleep while she had been reading to him. writing had always been a way for her to express herself &. reading it was always good for practicing for when she would have to speak with others. never did she view it as practice when she did it for dwyer. he still could fit between her legs &. tip his head back to rest upon her chest when he looked up at her when he did not understand something or had a question, or as he is now, fell asleep.
love swells deep in her chest as she watches the steady rise &. fall of his chest, shuffling the pages away from the both of them in order to cradle him properly. he is still small yet oversized for her arms. it reminds her of the days when she first picked up the bow &. how it had felt too big for her small frame.
she places one more kiss against his temple, then she prepares herself to lift him. her arms are weak, but she still manages to hold him up &. reposition himself upon the bed that they were sitting on. “ goodnight, dwyer. ” she whispers, pressing her forehead against his for a silent moment before departing from his gentle touch.
toddling upon the earth as though it may cease to exist beneath her feet, her footsteps are unsure &. gentle. the giggle that escapes her lips is of peaceful times &. nursing. no pain has touched her yet; no pain will come to her yet. there is pain in the world &. that pain has grazed her, but she is intact. her palms reach to cup her brother’s face as he sits with his feet resting below the shimmering surface of the lake. her clothes are dripping up to her stomach, but she shows no signs of discomfort, of dissatisfaction.
“ big brother! ” she exclaims, full of the forgiving, perfect love of a toddler, then pats his cheeks lovingly with open palms. the day is beautiful &. never will she be able to recall this memory as it is, but she will be able to experience it &. to stand next to her brother &. tell him how happy she is. later, her fingers will clutch at shimmering stones that the sunlight catches, but for now, ryoma is the only object shinning to her. he’s the sun.
the gentleness of the action causes a sigh to escape her mouth at the touch. foleo is careful in his ministrations to her hair &. she is adorned with a gift that she is familiar with. she belongs among them; it is her second language. happiness clouds her face as she turns her gaze upon him. her own hands reach up to softly touch the petals of the flowers that he’s placed upon her. it is a gift to be coveted. “ thank you… ” she says, starry-eyed.
blissful.
with careful hands, she reaches over across her desk to gather her own flower to place upon his hair: a cherry blossom, her namesake. with fumbling fingers, she pins it in &. then steps back to admire it. one hand cupping his cheek in the tiniest touch. “ how beautiful you are, foleo… ” she sighs, happily.
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