#ahahahah ;( this is a great way to make a first impression i'm sure

[altarcup]

and the crowd goes wild! for violet › from jinx.

my ears ring. my world spins. the t̳h̳i̳n̳g̳ that used to be my sister 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚜 from one greedy shadow to the next, weaving, dancing between pillars of smoke   ‒‒   and then, she seems to simply evaporate, 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫. she's the roach, but i’m the one crushed underfoot.

something cracks and splinters ; 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 as i try to right myself, try t̳o̳ ̳r̳i̳g̳h̳t̳ ̳m̳y̳ ̳s̳e̳l̳f̳ and all the things 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐, made irrevocable. 𝖎 can’t undo what i did to create her. that is why i must undo her.      ❛❛  𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐱,  ❜❜      i rasp, and it comes out with a string of blood-pink spit, the word 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚎𝚜, h̳o̳l̳l̳o̳w̳, in our empty, dark arena. ( and the crowd goes wild, indeed. )  

my teeth, my teeth, my teeth are aching with how hard they’re clenched together.  i’ll grind them down to stumps. i’ll have 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖑𝖊𝖋𝖙 in my mouth but dust when i’m done here. wincing, i leverage the weight of my gauntlets to 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎 to the ground as i struggle to stand. they connect, one after the other, with the s̳t̳e̳a̳m̳i̳n̳g̳ ̳r̳u̳b̳b̳l̳e̳. boom. boom. twin earthquakes. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶? i 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 for an electric glimmer, a flash of trailing blue. her voice comes from all directions at once. and, yes, it’s in my head. it asks, why did you leave me?

when will you kill me?

it seems to laugh. it toys with me, t̳a̳u̳n̳t̳s̳ me. it’s having fun, as if we're playing like we haven't in forever   ‒‒   𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚘. my bones rattle with how much i want to just lay down and cry from the weight of it all. it’s under the surface of my skin, 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 so bad to get out. i’ll never let it. maybe one day, when the wounds turned scabs turned scars stop 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, when i���ve not forgiven either of us, but 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡. maybe then. for now, my eyes are dry.

i heave up my metal fists, up, up, up until they’re balanced on either side of me, readied. 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱, the dust is settling. i pivot to the imaginary crowd, p̳i̳c̳t̳u̳r̳i̳n̳g̳ her world of grimaces and ragged dolls and squeaking gears on killing-toys. i don’t bother saying her name again. i know she's paying attention.      ❛❛  well, don’t keep 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 waiting.  ❜❜