taxonomites Fourth Wall Event
Although the sun had set over an hour ago, Taxon wasn't ready to sleep. (It was a city made up of the dead and the broken and the dangerous and the damned. It couldn't sleep.) The air was singing to her, crackling with fear and confusion and anger and a maelstrom of other delightful emotions that thrilled Drusilla to the core.
(When it had started, she'd knelt down on the grass, burrowing her fingers through the cool green blades until she'd stained her nails with soil and felt the very pulse of the city beneath her palm. It was only as alive as the people who lived there made it. It was alive now.)
Who would they bring to her? Who would she get to see again?
She thought of the missing parts of her family - not just her darling deadly boy and her grandmother, but the daughter who hadn't been born yet and the brother who might never come to be and the not-quite-cousin she'd treasured - with affection. With love. The chance to see them again would be even sweeter than Christmas.
She thought of the friends - could she really call them that? - that she had made and lost since coming to the city. Men from the stars and princesses from the past. A collection almost as precious (and certainly as strange) as her dear little family.
Although she hadn't been a good girl recently, she walked confidently - softly, swiftly, a shadow among the shadows - through the city.
If the hamsters told Father Christmas to give her coal instead of diamonds again, she'd rip their eyes out.
(When it had started, she'd knelt down on the grass, burrowing her fingers through the cool green blades until she'd stained her nails with soil and felt the very pulse of the city beneath her palm. It was only as alive as the people who lived there made it. It was alive now.)
Who would they bring to her? Who would she get to see again?
She thought of the missing parts of her family - not just her darling deadly boy and her grandmother, but the daughter who hadn't been born yet and the brother who might never come to be and the not-quite-cousin she'd treasured - with affection. With love. The chance to see them again would be even sweeter than Christmas.
She thought of the friends - could she really call them that? - that she had made and lost since coming to the city. Men from the stars and princesses from the past. A collection almost as precious (and certainly as strange) as her dear little family.
Although she hadn't been a good girl recently, she walked confidently - softly, swiftly, a shadow among the shadows - through the city.
If the hamsters told Father Christmas to give her coal instead of diamonds again, she'd rip their eyes out.