009. Pessimist

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CHAPTER NINE

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CHAPTER NINE.
pessimist.
( paper crane no. 797. )






MINT NEVER GOT HER LIE-IN.

Whilst the events of the past day had worn out her body, with every limb craving for respite, heavy and dragged, her mind would not ease. It would not settle even as she carried out the familiar routine of washing up and making sure her uniform was prepped and ready to be sent down to the elves, before finally tucking herself into her warm bed, ready for the land of dreams and healing- she just couldn't tire.

It seemed rest would not come easy to the Crane Crafter whilst her thoughts still remained on the sleeping boy in the Hospital Wing.

Every time she closed her eyes, perhaps only for a second, splitting images of him dripping in blood and lacerated apart like a discarded dog toy crept into her mind, leaving her tensed and sick. The way the warmth of his skin had melted into hers as he gripped her arm like he was begging- pleading her to stay, and the uncomfortable calmness she wasn't used to in the presence of him- everything just... lingered. She found herself fighting her own thoughts, but everything crept back to him - even the way they had spoken to one another. Mint was so accustomed to quarrelling and bickering that the soft-spoken exchange felt off and wrong. But, also, very right. It was nice for a small change, though Mint wondered whether she liked it or not.

Eventually, she gave up with the tortured task of sleep and moved to sit by the dancing shadows of the window, settling her gaze upon the Whomping Willow, which alike her, was tranced and stuck, its arms swaying sluggishly as it fought against the enchantment - but to no avail. She wrapped her arms around her legs and leaned her head back against the cold wall, too lost within her own mind to notice the sun peaking through the clouds.

The darkness of the night washed away, and in its place, dawn was breaking.

A new day had begun.

Still, Mint sat there, so bewitched by the hypnotising swaying of the tree that her eyes became more of a burden to keep open, and finally, sleep came like salvation. Nonetheless, her mind still plagued with hazed dreams of subtle touches, soft gazes and boyish smirks. She dreamt of him; smiling at her so lovingly, as though in his eyes, she was more precious than any golden galleon or deathly hallow, his eyes sparkling with pure tenderness as he looked down at her, gently pulling her closer, as though the distance kept them apart. It felt like she was swimming in a fog, before it blurred, the dream bending into nothing and floating away. It seemed even unconscious, he played and danced around in her mind, filling every space in her conscious. There was no escape from him. Awake or asleep.

Mint didn't know what time it was when she awoke. The sun had risen beyond the valley and glittered into the dormitory, dust from the windowsill floating around in the beams of sunlight. She guessed it was no later than six o'clock. Rubbing her eyes at their stiffness, she groaned at the rough feeling that had yet to leave her body - though, she was grateful to have snatched at least a bit of sleep. It was enough to keep her going for a few hours.

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