you're scared, terrified. no matter where you go, ryomen sukuna's always capable of finding you. you curl, hiding within every corner - but he discovers every limb of you. you long to run, but outrunning someone so powerful refrains from doing you a...
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content warning: violence, retaliation, death and fleeing.
• ━━･❪ (❦ ❫ ･━━ •
You're scared, terrified. no matter where you go, ryomen sukuna's always capable of finding you. you curl, hiding within every corner — but he discovers every limb of you. you long to run, but outrunning someone so powerful refrains from doing you any wonders. don't you see? why won't you see?
a/n: this is simply a small teaser. epilogue: fate's fool. chapter 0.5. this is my first sukuna fic, so take care of it.
Thunder etches upon your tainted environment. Your limbs are quivering with shock, dazed and heavy with blasphemous sins. There's not a fragment of purity that reigns upon you, all of that is stored within the perished body at your nude feet.
Everything's an ample, twisted sick mess — in the way your eyes exhibit fear, confusion and unshakable distraught. Nothing's bound to measure up anymore, as you're left with the choice of eternal punishment or a swift death.
You've slaughtered Lord Sukuna's favourite royal advisor, all because he's fingers longed to grasp upon you. You, someone who Lord Sukuna deemed as an innocent, untouchable muse — bound to be protected until the end of time lays.
However, you're tarnished. Your ivory dress' smeared with anchors of the wailing dead man's blood. The blood's taunting your haphazourdly self, glancing down at him — your fingers licked upon with fear for the first time.
Desperately, your eyes are abnormally wide — deathly hope flooding your pounding ears. All you could process is the light wisps of sound, the laughing thunder and the sound of your creeping demise.
Every sick act's fated to fall in place, but you're not fate's fool today.
"Lord Sukuna's going to murder me, the person he says is the face of innocence," Frowning, flinching at the intensifying thunder, you mindlessly whisper.
"I was supposed to be his wife, freed of any sins for him," Silently shrieking, impatient at the lifeless dead body, your heart swirls as your hoarse words fall.
"But now, the end of my reign is here," Speaking with determined anger, you harshly kick Sukuna's advisor's defenseless body — your anger ruling the submissive thunder.
Unwilling to fathom your image being tainted by the sin of man, you continue to kick the man. Kick him for attempting to steal away your innocence, longing to romance you — only to threaten you with planned death.
The young man was keen on you being his own, accustoming to his unknown home and becoming his wife. Becoming a labour machine, delivering his children and raising them until they're capable of individualism. Not once did you long to mould into his unworthy standard, you're more than that.
You were.
"I fucking hate you, you greedy pig," Stirred with disdain, you glance down at your bloody nightgown with a grin — feeling an ounce of sickly freedom.
"I've got to leave now or Lord Sukuna's going to punish me, making me his eternal servant," Fearful of the idea, you glance at the cooling thunder — looking outside towards the escapable garden.
After all, Sukuna gifted you the second best room — in hopes you one day become his betrothal. A betrothal he was bound to elope when you both turn twenty, but you had to leave now. There's no future in a place that would discriminate against you, shunning you from the purified eternity that once longed for you to cosy in its parted arms.
"If I pretend to have died, too, Sukuna'll find someone else," Mumbling with levelheadedness, you search your room for your savings — picking out a stupidly large amount of money and a black clock.
A red clock, just so you could pair with the cloudiness of your untamed sin. A sin you have to coddle because of the greediness of someone else's heart.
Out the balcony door you go, fleeing from an environment that once caged you within the best ways. Yet, now, you're set to flee towards a secret cottage you built — away from everything you've ever known.
