another
Inspiration: “Share with me the blankets that you’re wrapped in ‘cause it’s cold outside, it’s cold outside. Share with me the secrets that you kept in ‘cause it’s cold inside, it’s cold inside.” - Secondhand Serenade ; Vulnerable & Life of a Slave
C o l d
- - -
If Shizuru ever had a clearer mind of anything, it was the cold. She remembered almost tasting the frigidity of the winter days and nights as she stood, barefoot, in the freezing weather. She remembered the exhales of misty breath into the still air and she remembered the distant scent of smoke coming from the factory. She remembered watching the mundane movement of bodies trekking through the snow toward the factory, burdened. She remembered the way words balled up in her throat, fluttered, and died before ever reaching her lips. Soundless screams, desperate silent murmurs; silence was her sanctuary and her prison, as was this very camp.
Even in the later years, in a mansion that was practically out of an old folktale with its magnificent brick outdoor walls and its pale oak-shaded indoor walls, high beams and red carpets, long winding staircases and dizzying views of masterpieces in each hall; the memory of the cold stayed. She braced the harsh memories one after the other, of a master, of bruises, of apathy and agony. Memories of an old friend, a forgotten man, a sorrowful woman dressed in white came assaulting her in dreams, yet left in unsure hazes.
With once again bare feet gracing the snow, she walked the grounds of the mansion, searching, crying, and wishing for reprieve. Tears and bruises, silent screams and locked words, secrets kept inside. She wasn’t aware that she was sitting by that same oak, the one of horrors of near drowning, the one of fond memories of a picnic, and cherished moments of a kiss.
This time she wept, back leaning against the bark of that old tree and shoulders hunched, tawny hair sweeping down the sides of her face, bangs brushing her forehead, kissing her cheeks. She wept, though the reason for doing so was unclear to her. She didn’t think to call for Natsuki, for Saeko or Alyssa, Yuuto or Ami or even Duran. Could they understand the feeling of bitterness quivering just underneath her heart?
So cold.
Maple eyes bore into the frigid wind that howled softly through the white winter lands, the glimmer of moisture at the ends of black lashes. She rubbed the back of her palm against her eyes, furiously willing away the tears that pooled at the back of her red orbs. If for one moment she could be selfish, she would wish to never see another winter again.
Pushing herself off the tree, she turned to head back to the mansion. However the image in front of her made her stiffen.
Emerald eyes, flickering between warmth and ice stared back at her.
“Come out of the cold. You’ll freeze to death.”
Hard words, soft words, she wasn’t sure.
Shizuru bowed her head and trudged after Natsuki, the rigid back of the Noble at the edge of her vision. They walked, not exactly side by side since it was out of habit for Shizuru to fall back, to stand behind Natsuki, dutifully. Natsuki paused at the entrance of the mansion and opened the doors for them. She didn’t turn to Shizuru and Shizuru didn’t turn toward her. She did whisper though, softly rasp, “I hate the winter.”
Natsuki seemed to fidget, moved a bit away from her and then back to her, but didn’t say anything. She brushed past the other girl and stalked into the mansion. Shizuru shivered and turned back to the white grounds. She wondered faintly if the winter had not only frozen the grounds of the mansion, but Natsuki’s heart as well. She morosely walked back into the mansion, question left unanswered.
It’s cold outside. It’s cold inside.
- - -
One of the obvious inspirations for this drabble was
winter_solace18's fanfic Life of a Slave. I hope I didn't screw up the characterization of your Shizuru and Natsuki sis. :[
C o l d
- - -
If Shizuru ever had a clearer mind of anything, it was the cold. She remembered almost tasting the frigidity of the winter days and nights as she stood, barefoot, in the freezing weather. She remembered the exhales of misty breath into the still air and she remembered the distant scent of smoke coming from the factory. She remembered watching the mundane movement of bodies trekking through the snow toward the factory, burdened. She remembered the way words balled up in her throat, fluttered, and died before ever reaching her lips. Soundless screams, desperate silent murmurs; silence was her sanctuary and her prison, as was this very camp.
Even in the later years, in a mansion that was practically out of an old folktale with its magnificent brick outdoor walls and its pale oak-shaded indoor walls, high beams and red carpets, long winding staircases and dizzying views of masterpieces in each hall; the memory of the cold stayed. She braced the harsh memories one after the other, of a master, of bruises, of apathy and agony. Memories of an old friend, a forgotten man, a sorrowful woman dressed in white came assaulting her in dreams, yet left in unsure hazes.
With once again bare feet gracing the snow, she walked the grounds of the mansion, searching, crying, and wishing for reprieve. Tears and bruises, silent screams and locked words, secrets kept inside. She wasn’t aware that she was sitting by that same oak, the one of horrors of near drowning, the one of fond memories of a picnic, and cherished moments of a kiss.
This time she wept, back leaning against the bark of that old tree and shoulders hunched, tawny hair sweeping down the sides of her face, bangs brushing her forehead, kissing her cheeks. She wept, though the reason for doing so was unclear to her. She didn’t think to call for Natsuki, for Saeko or Alyssa, Yuuto or Ami or even Duran. Could they understand the feeling of bitterness quivering just underneath her heart?
So cold.
Maple eyes bore into the frigid wind that howled softly through the white winter lands, the glimmer of moisture at the ends of black lashes. She rubbed the back of her palm against her eyes, furiously willing away the tears that pooled at the back of her red orbs. If for one moment she could be selfish, she would wish to never see another winter again.
Pushing herself off the tree, she turned to head back to the mansion. However the image in front of her made her stiffen.
Emerald eyes, flickering between warmth and ice stared back at her.
“Come out of the cold. You’ll freeze to death.”
Hard words, soft words, she wasn’t sure.
Shizuru bowed her head and trudged after Natsuki, the rigid back of the Noble at the edge of her vision. They walked, not exactly side by side since it was out of habit for Shizuru to fall back, to stand behind Natsuki, dutifully. Natsuki paused at the entrance of the mansion and opened the doors for them. She didn’t turn to Shizuru and Shizuru didn’t turn toward her. She did whisper though, softly rasp, “I hate the winter.”
Natsuki seemed to fidget, moved a bit away from her and then back to her, but didn’t say anything. She brushed past the other girl and stalked into the mansion. Shizuru shivered and turned back to the white grounds. She wondered faintly if the winter had not only frozen the grounds of the mansion, but Natsuki’s heart as well. She morosely walked back into the mansion, question left unanswered.
It’s cold outside. It’s cold inside.
- - -
One of the obvious inspirations for this drabble was
winter_solace18's fanfic Life of a Slave. I hope I didn't screw up the characterization of your Shizuru and Natsuki sis. :[