TSUBAKI-HIME / Original Fic / 322 words
For lianne29.
Tsubaki-hime
When Cathleen breathes, little clouds hover over her cherry lips. Her face is a pale canvas superimposed upon a colorless landscape of gray satin and virgin snow dappled in moonlight. Scarlet is too harsh, too garish for her alabaster skin, yet Ethan continues to nudge the gnarled branches of blossom-laden camellia and watches the crimson petals rain upon her motionless face.
“You like to waste time, don’t you?” she whispers. It has begun to snow, and little flakes find their way into the tiny crevice of her lips when she speaks. He imagines them melting on her tongue, like an intimate kiss, and foolishly feels a tinge of jealousy.
“I imagined you would savor it,” he replies without a trace of emotion. It takes him by surprise - this newfound ability to disconnect - when prior to this moment, his world revolved around her every sigh and smile.
“I do.” Her voice is wistful and hopeful, as if her wish is about to be granted, even as life seeps away from her veins. The cold has begun to gnaw at her lips, tinting them blue. It does not strike him as odd at all.
“Masochist,” he chides. Accusation ripples in faint undertones: You wanted this. You promised me. You were wrong. None of that matters now, so they both ignore the lines in between.
Instead, Ethan plucks a camellia and starts shredding it over her heart. The bright crimson on her chest can no longer be disguised by the petals. The white satin of her dressing gown absorbs blood with desperate gulps, and the color blooms brighter as her breaths grow weaker.
“You left me,” he whispers, almost to himself. The metal feels unbearably heavy in his hand, but he refuses to let go. Knuckles white, pupils wide, and breathing heavy, he whimpers, “You left, and… and…”
Cathleen chuckles faintly until her last breath, and Ethan thinks that he has never heard anything lovelier.
Tsubaki-hime
When Cathleen breathes, little clouds hover over her cherry lips. Her face is a pale canvas superimposed upon a colorless landscape of gray satin and virgin snow dappled in moonlight. Scarlet is too harsh, too garish for her alabaster skin, yet Ethan continues to nudge the gnarled branches of blossom-laden camellia and watches the crimson petals rain upon her motionless face.
“You like to waste time, don’t you?” she whispers. It has begun to snow, and little flakes find their way into the tiny crevice of her lips when she speaks. He imagines them melting on her tongue, like an intimate kiss, and foolishly feels a tinge of jealousy.
“I imagined you would savor it,” he replies without a trace of emotion. It takes him by surprise - this newfound ability to disconnect - when prior to this moment, his world revolved around her every sigh and smile.
“I do.” Her voice is wistful and hopeful, as if her wish is about to be granted, even as life seeps away from her veins. The cold has begun to gnaw at her lips, tinting them blue. It does not strike him as odd at all.
“Masochist,” he chides. Accusation ripples in faint undertones: You wanted this. You promised me. You were wrong. None of that matters now, so they both ignore the lines in between.
Instead, Ethan plucks a camellia and starts shredding it over her heart. The bright crimson on her chest can no longer be disguised by the petals. The white satin of her dressing gown absorbs blood with desperate gulps, and the color blooms brighter as her breaths grow weaker.
“You left me,” he whispers, almost to himself. The metal feels unbearably heavy in his hand, but he refuses to let go. Knuckles white, pupils wide, and breathing heavy, he whimpers, “You left, and… and…”
Cathleen chuckles faintly until her last breath, and Ethan thinks that he has never heard anything lovelier.