Drabble: Snow (Rome, Octavia/Various, R)
Title: Snow
Author: aphrodite_mine
Information: Rome, Octavia (hints of Octavia/Octavian, Octavia/Servilia, Octavia/Glabius), R. Prompt for 5_fabulae , Theme set VIII, 3 "Niveus", under the claim Octavia. Self-injury warning.
It is a simple shard. But what it does shall bring redemption. It will clean her far deeper than a bath or scented oil or any amount of covering could ever do.
"We are not that kind," he said. She will clean herself of all that which she is not. She will erase what crime she has done and she will be new again.
She pulls herself in tighter, tighter still. Fingers pulling themselves into a fist, nails cutting little half-moons into her palm.
She travels back; back to before the here and now. There is no shard in her hand, no delicious press of metal into her skin. There is no brother in her bed, no tears in her eyes. She undoes the thread from the loom, steps away from Servilia's tainted kiss.
Glabius does not die, she does not mourn him. She is young and pure and lovely and proud to be a Julii. He can touch the curls that stick to her neck after making love and she does not cringe away.
Stroke once, stroke twice. Gripping the shard tighter than she has held onto anything in life before. Her redemption in her hand, dripping down her arm.
Author: aphrodite_mine
Information: Rome, Octavia (hints of Octavia/Octavian, Octavia/Servilia, Octavia/Glabius), R. Prompt for 5_fabulae , Theme set VIII, 3 "Niveus", under the claim Octavia. Self-injury warning.
It is a simple shard. But what it does shall bring redemption. It will clean her far deeper than a bath or scented oil or any amount of covering could ever do.
"We are not that kind," he said. She will clean herself of all that which she is not. She will erase what crime she has done and she will be new again.
She pulls herself in tighter, tighter still. Fingers pulling themselves into a fist, nails cutting little half-moons into her palm.
She travels back; back to before the here and now. There is no shard in her hand, no delicious press of metal into her skin. There is no brother in her bed, no tears in her eyes. She undoes the thread from the loom, steps away from Servilia's tainted kiss.
Glabius does not die, she does not mourn him. She is young and pure and lovely and proud to be a Julii. He can touch the curls that stick to her neck after making love and she does not cringe away.
Stroke once, stroke twice. Gripping the shard tighter than she has held onto anything in life before. Her redemption in her hand, dripping down her arm.