(no subject)
Ever Would Be, Nine/Rose, g
She looks straight ahead, and in that moment she sees what could have been.
She sees everything.
The past. Her past lined up against all the others. In the collection of childhoods in her mind, hers is nothing spectacular. Raised by a single parent, teased occasionally at school, occasionally teasing others, schoolgirl crushes... it has all been done before and she can see that now. Across the world there are thousands of children that grew up under the same circumstances she did, with many of the same emotions that came with it. Amongst all the others she can see, there is nothing special about her. Nothing that sets her apart.
She sees the present. The gold waves of heat and light she gives off as she stands there, God in human skin. And she sees him. She sees his past, his childhood, his children, his loss and his running. She sees all of him in a way that no one has for many years now and for that reason, she understands his surprise. But still she sees past it, to the bare, unguarded relief that lies beneath and for a moment she is overwhelmed with her feelings.
She looks straight ahead, and in that moment she sees what could have been.
There's a little girl, probably only four or five, sitting on a bed in front of her. Her blonde hair hangs down, hiding her face from Rose as she takes her in. Her nightgown is the same perfect white as the bedspread, the latter of which is pulled up practically to her neck as she sits crossleged on the bed. She's never seen her before but she knows, knows it's her child.
Rose cannot take a step forward. She cannot call to her or touch her. The child is only in her mind, as is the bed and that life. It doesn't register to her waking conscious then, but the bad wolf knows that one day this will end, and she will have to go home. Her heart burns with anger and her hands burn with power. She can give life, she can take it away. Knowing everything means controlling everything. He is pleading with her, but can't he understand? She can control it.
"I can see everything. All that is, all that was, all that is, all that could ever be."
Her heart aches as she says it, but then he is standing there before her, smiling with that same familar face.
"That's what I see. All the time," he says.
When he takes her into his arms, the pain leaves her body. The power and the knowledge goes with it. As his lips touch hers she thinks of what she's seen, what could have been and what will be. She knows that the next time she opens her eyes, she will not mourn this loss and that is a loss in itself. As she sinks down out of his arms her last thought is similar to the first: her childhood, her past like all the others. This is what makes me special, she thinks. Us.
And then she's gone.
She looks straight ahead, and in that moment she sees what could have been.
She sees everything.
The past. Her past lined up against all the others. In the collection of childhoods in her mind, hers is nothing spectacular. Raised by a single parent, teased occasionally at school, occasionally teasing others, schoolgirl crushes... it has all been done before and she can see that now. Across the world there are thousands of children that grew up under the same circumstances she did, with many of the same emotions that came with it. Amongst all the others she can see, there is nothing special about her. Nothing that sets her apart.
She sees the present. The gold waves of heat and light she gives off as she stands there, God in human skin. And she sees him. She sees his past, his childhood, his children, his loss and his running. She sees all of him in a way that no one has for many years now and for that reason, she understands his surprise. But still she sees past it, to the bare, unguarded relief that lies beneath and for a moment she is overwhelmed with her feelings.
She looks straight ahead, and in that moment she sees what could have been.
There's a little girl, probably only four or five, sitting on a bed in front of her. Her blonde hair hangs down, hiding her face from Rose as she takes her in. Her nightgown is the same perfect white as the bedspread, the latter of which is pulled up practically to her neck as she sits crossleged on the bed. She's never seen her before but she knows, knows it's her child.
Rose cannot take a step forward. She cannot call to her or touch her. The child is only in her mind, as is the bed and that life. It doesn't register to her waking conscious then, but the bad wolf knows that one day this will end, and she will have to go home. Her heart burns with anger and her hands burn with power. She can give life, she can take it away. Knowing everything means controlling everything. He is pleading with her, but can't he understand? She can control it.
"I can see everything. All that is, all that was, all that is, all that could ever be."
Her heart aches as she says it, but then he is standing there before her, smiling with that same familar face.
"That's what I see. All the time," he says.
When he takes her into his arms, the pain leaves her body. The power and the knowledge goes with it. As his lips touch hers she thinks of what she's seen, what could have been and what will be. She knows that the next time she opens her eyes, she will not mourn this loss and that is a loss in itself. As she sinks down out of his arms her last thought is similar to the first: her childhood, her past like all the others. This is what makes me special, she thinks. Us.
And then she's gone.