Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 5 ♢ A Melody of Sorrows (KE)

THE HANGING TREE GAMES: REVISITED - TASK FIVE [SONG TASK]

Kassia had never minded the cold, neither simplistic nor biting. Back home, the breezes were typically harsh, and brought with it a wintery frost to glaze over glass and grass every morning; young girls would step over the grass in their freshest sandals and it'd all melt and flick upon their feet, legs bare and caught in the frigid morning air (the boys were similarly unforetelling with their shorts). Kass, though, she found pleasure in pants that hugged her legs and boots that kept all the moisture out. That way, she could run without concern that her skirt would fly up, or that her feet would slip out from under her and leave her ass wetter than her toes. When she saw the others rushing to school, slipping and sliding and shivering, she couldn't help but hug herself tightly and think, ah, idiots, idiots everywhere. With a smile.

If you were going to try to be pretty, you had to do it with a degree of intelligence. That much she could pride herself on.

But this cold - this new, unfamiliar cold - suddenly made her feel like minding. As she paced the hotel room's stained carpet, (stains she saw only by the dim light of a lamp on the bedside table) heat blew from an unbrushed mouth into her palms. It wasn't good enough. It'd never be good enough. They just had to bust a hole in every window, didn't they?

"Would you quit pacing already? It's making me dizzy."

Soles ground into the carpet, and Kassia turned her whole body towards Aeneas, whose lap was wrapped up in the blankets of one of the beds (the other one'd collapsed long ago). Staring over at his cheeky self, part of her wished the others were here - Brannon, Symon, and Cadigan were holed up in different rooms - but then she wouldn't be allowed to use expletives.

"I'm going to kick your sorry ass to the underworld," she said. The words trembled. They weren't serious.

Aeneas lifted his hands in surrender, eyebrow cocked. "My bad."

Though he'd given up, Kassia still felt her shoulders tensed and at the ready. Her whole body was stiff, actually, pulled tight by irritation at a great many things. Pacing continued, a thump, thump, thump through the room until she was drawn, once again, to the cracked mirror on the wall. There, she saw herself: hair untangled with a discarded comb, grime removed. But there were red marks crossing her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, all results of morning's rain. Even at the corner of her mouth, which was incredibly unflattering. It was all unflattering.

She hadn't even realized her hand'd drifted up to feel the marks until Aeneas spoke out. "Do they still sting like hell?"

"No," she said, pulling her hand down, "not too bad. Just hope it heals, really." Kass quickly decided she wasn't fond of staring at herself and instead stared at the boy through the mirror, never turning around. Aeneas had the marks on his arms too. Skims of silver bullets all over. "Thanks for not letting me, y'know, die and all."

You shouldn't have needed his help.

The corner of his lip twitched halfheartedly; he looked into his lap. "My pleasure, princess."

You were supposed to be strong but it was him.

"Yup."

And everybody...saw.

Pale hands swept through her locks, starting at the roots and combing all the way through with one extended exhale. Simultaneously, the heavy curtains billowed with another gust of wind, and Aeneas leaned over to shut off the light, a light they shouldn't even've had but existed anyways. Smart move on his part. Nobody'd see them here.