thirteenth voyage
[ Christmas morning dawns, and there's no light.
Komachi can't remember what happened before the darkness. There are just flashes of the same routine that she goes through every day, stumbling downstairs, collecting the mail. A different letter, this time. And then nothing.
At first, she writes it off as a bad dream. But she can't move, can't stretch out her arms like she used to, her fingers only curl against splinters. She yelps. There's solid, immovable wood, murky, slippery and damp. It perches almost mockingly above her nose - an awful sky of restraint. ]
I-is this a joke? It's got to be, right...? Please!
[ And now she begins to shout. First, almost casually. Pretending it doesn't bother her. She slaps the lid of the coffin, she pushes, and pushes, and pushes, and pushes, and shouts some more, but it's not moving, and now her heart skips ten beats and she's panicking, and what's going on, and why did this happen to me, and she hammers the sky of woodchips and mould and cries and cries and cries.
All the while, the air slips away, a cowardly assassin. Her fingers start to bleed but she can't see the red. ]
Please.
[ Below the earth of John Doe Park, Komachi cannot sleep. ]
(( ooc: Thank you to the anonymous donator who gifted me with a very kind Christmas present! You're so unbelievably brilliant and if I knew who you were I would shower you with adoration and, well, more gifts, you beauty, you!
I may be slow responding to tags as it is Christmas after all. ))
Komachi can't remember what happened before the darkness. There are just flashes of the same routine that she goes through every day, stumbling downstairs, collecting the mail. A different letter, this time. And then nothing.
At first, she writes it off as a bad dream. But she can't move, can't stretch out her arms like she used to, her fingers only curl against splinters. She yelps. There's solid, immovable wood, murky, slippery and damp. It perches almost mockingly above her nose - an awful sky of restraint. ]
I-is this a joke? It's got to be, right...? Please!
[ And now she begins to shout. First, almost casually. Pretending it doesn't bother her. She slaps the lid of the coffin, she pushes, and pushes, and pushes, and pushes, and shouts some more, but it's not moving, and now her heart skips ten beats and she's panicking, and what's going on, and why did this happen to me, and she hammers the sky of woodchips and mould and cries and cries and cries.
All the while, the air slips away, a cowardly assassin. Her fingers start to bleed but she can't see the red. ]
Please.
[ Below the earth of John Doe Park, Komachi cannot sleep. ]
(( ooc: Thank you to the anonymous donator who gifted me with a very kind Christmas present! You're so unbelievably brilliant and if I knew who you were I would shower you with adoration and, well, more gifts, you beauty, you!
I may be slow responding to tags as it is Christmas after all. ))