TW: Implied suicide...
The meadow is pale. The grass is heather. The sky is gray. The rock face glints brass. In the middle of the meadow, a girl picks flowers. She looks young, but her face is chiseled with the hallows of hunger, a hollowness that alludes to a maturity far beyond her age. A maturity brought about by many long, damp, mornings like this one.
The girl plucks another stem. Another pale white flower. Another lily of the valley. Another cream-colored bouquet. Then she pauses as she nears the cliff drop-off. A long, shaky breath in. Another shaky breath out. The girl's eyes close. Her long, wavy brown hair folds around her face in the breeze.
The girl's eyes finally open, and she looks to the sky. She throws her hands up, and the flowers fly into the wind, the petals drifting to the ground slowly. The girl remains unsmiling. She drops to her knees, her hands smoothing her skirt. Quickly and deftly, the girl arranges the fallen flowers into a wreath. She lowers to the middle of the wreath.
Her fingers trace the ground, swirling and twisting. Some kind of writing. Finally, the girl removes a bracelet from her wrist, and her hair falls back over her face. All emotions are veiled. She places the bracelet on the writing in the center of the wreath. The bracelet itself is a simple white band, with some remnants of an old screen. The screen is dented as if it's been smashed over and over again to no yield.
Now the screen only shows two dots, some kind of colon, in red ink. Blood. The symbol itself is imperfect, as the girl painted it herself.
The girl stands up again, and her hair blows behind her. Her face is finally exposed. Once-warm brown eyes, all emotion sucked from them. Parched lips, pale skin.
She steps towards the cliff and spreads her arms. Exhale. A foot forward, into open air. Then she freefalls, toppling over the cliff edge, her arms like wings. All left in her wake is the wailing of wind and eery silence.
A flower from her hair floats up above the cliff, carried in a gust. The red petals drift to rest upon the bracelet. All that's left; a remnant, a memory.
Just like Evony Blaize.
A grave, signed in ancient language:
Tilly Death Do Us Part
YOU ARE READING
Soulbreak - A MCYT 3rd/Last/Double Life FanFiction
AdventureWhen the arena becomes real... like life and death real... As Pearl gradually descends into madness, Scott's faced with a choice between Pearl and Cleo - his only two "loves". Martyn's hopelessly abandoned by his loves. Pearl may just be the monster...
