#// sayuri vc: I'm over my past life

[usagimen]

                                    @grievice   : "You don't have to hide them around me. The scars are just part of who you are, and I like all of what I see."

                Tattered, in ribbons the flesh dangled, she touched her cheek && bore a snarl. A rabbit hearted girl, thunderous her heart would pound, like a war drum that refused to succumb. Deity, there was forewarning in the word alone, your first solo assignment - how exciting. As the summer slipped through her grasp, the shattering of her heart bore itself into several shards, each she wished to grasp && reclaim, haphazardly fixing them with gold. Every God needs their altar, a sacrificial lamb to please upon it, bled in an illumination of crimson, for second it appears like wine gathering in her palms, soaking the bindings. Godhood was merely girlhood, the suffering, sin && virtue, to be flayed without a moment of hesitation, the executioner && wayward daughter. Emerging, she holds the corpse of what was innocent && pure, crystalline tears that fall onto the soft white of her blouse, everything aches.

           That is rebirth, sacrifice && tribulation, Goddess! Stronger than steel, unbending like iron, the shatter of storms - Goddess of the Feast who sups on the flesh of the divine. Glory was given in momentary sums, she flees without warning, the rabbit wishes to find a burrow && rebuke her newfound status. She’s dead, the rumors echoe, but hasn’t she always been? Between the cups of coffee && deep obsidian brews, there was a happiness that blossomed in her chest. From the withered cavern where her heart once reigned; sunflowers began to crawl towards the skies.

              Rightfully, she wishes to howl in indignation, he should have never bothered to retrieve her. The age where they clambered together && her awestricken gaze was warmed with admiration now remained buried. Between her fingers the wooden stamp rolls, why keep something that cannot be? In serpentine tongues, voices murmurs, cursed to seek the endless horizons, cursed to be ripped from the daylight that bore the  love of the wise moon, bride of winter, bride of shadows, isn’t fate a horrific thing? Her mind is a torrent of restless seas, colliding && clashing. “Huh….?” foolishly, she plays ignorant to Naoya's remarks. The typical tactic when she was corned, when her cruelty was drawn out, when she could not hide from the scathing of his gaze. “They make me nostalgic” with an idle shrug of her shoulders, melancholy begins to fill her, listless she tugs upon the warmth of her robes holding them in place. Beautiful, he utters it feverishly when her skin is set ablaze, tenderness that rips the seams apart && stitches them together again.

             Love is agonizing, yearning that consumes the essence of her soul, she often regales the two star crossed lovers, tendrils of red held in hands akin to bouquet, waiting to be tossed. In another life, was she brave enough to discard the relic that has brought her agony? A name that bore no benevolence, an outlier who wept - if there was no blessing bestowed upon her, could he still love her? Beautiful, once more it rings within her mind, he would love her in full. “It’s rather difficult to constantly sum the energy up to hide such marks, expensive makeup does less, when I see each blemish - they remind me of failure” how could she be anything but meager? A Kobayashi was a blade, one that intervene when need be. Equalizing those who believed they were righteous && bringing forth balance, harmony, prideful smiles in their candlelit features declared. How could that be? When Sayuri was left behind && used for political gain, thrust into a land not of her own. She sets the seal down, “In fantasies, I think of that day where our union was made by the elders, in that instance, I should have swallowed my pride” reject everything, the God of Reverly’s gift, the name she was born to wear, the one gifted to her in hopes that generation worth of feuds could end.

            “You were surprised when I refused to wear the title Zen’in, everyone else was horrified” she laughs, merrily with her calloused grasp clasping together. Home was not across the streams where beautiful beings whispered pleasantries, it was not amongst the hydrangeas && chrysanthemums, it was in a den of wolves that flashed their teeth. Who knew she was neither a rabbit or celestial being, but the beloved of Death himself, a bride unlike any other, monstrous && cherished. “It remains a fixture that I cannot escape, even now I still use the seal like an entitled wife that refuses to part with the decadence of her social standing - it’s tragic, isn’t it?” in one quick movement, she tugs upon him, just like in girlhood when her frame shook && she could not utter, I’m scared.

              “This was not my desire, I rather be a bride of the abyssal shadows than a deity to be worshiped - take me home, where the song of our ancestral land sings to me once more, where I am safe && we are together again”