"I am sorry again for being-" Zane began to say before cutting himself off with a strangled choke as his ice-coloured eyes finally landed on me for the first time. He stood, faster than what should've been considered normal, expression pulled into a...
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capricorn, the year that you were born finished fast and the next one wasn't yours too old for dying young, too young to live alone sifting through centuries for moments of your own
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I am a pixaner for life... except for when I'm writing this fic <3
EVERYBODY SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY FAIRY
My favourite thing to do was watch the snow.
I'd sit in the window seat of my little Ignacia Village cottage and watch them float in the night sky. It was the same cottage I grew up in, the same village I'd never left. The same photos hung on the walls that my parents had put up before I was born. Their gravestones, and their parents' gravestones, and their parents' parents' gravestones all sat in a cemetery where I was destined to lie.
I liked to watch the snow. They were untethered, free spirits, wanderers that saw more of the world than I ever had. For a moment they left the world pristine, as if it'd been born afresh and began to live anew. The daisies that poked from beneath the snow would scatter delicate yellow across the rice fields, and their soft pink petals would flutter in the breeze. For a moment, just that singular moment, the world would be peaceful.
I liked to watch the snow when I was sitting at my desk. It glided to the soft music from the record that'd spin on the vinyl player I'd inherited. They cosied my bedroom even as it chilled my skin. My laptop with the blank page would dim and blacken.
I liked to watch the snow. The snowflakes would remind me of the faceless man that had lived in my dreams from the moment I could remember. They were pristinely white - just like the colour of his hair. They were cold like the colour his skin.
I liked to watch the snowflakes. They flew where I yearned to. What was it like to live so freely?
There was something about them - something perfect and unpredictable in the way that the snowflakes danced. They flew with the breeze, content to glide anywhere. Every day was a new journey. They always saw new things.
I wished I was the snow.
☁️🌨❄️🌨☁️
On the morning of the middle of the month in the middle of winter, I woke with a headache.
It wasn't unusual for me to wake to a pounding rhythm that knocked against my skull to the beat of my heart. In fact, it was more unusual if I woke without it - I could count the days where it wouldn't meet me first thing. I held a palm to my forehead and greeted my chronic headache as if it were my old, grouchy friend. It may as well have been.
