Manaka "Girl Scout from Hell" Sajyou (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beastofasister) wrote2013-12-21 02:04 pm
beastofasister) wrote2013-12-21 02:04 pm
Entry tags:
[IC | Solo Log] some get snow blind with the daylight
Who: Manaka Sajyou & a visitor
What: A wandering spirit has taken the form of Manaka's prince
When: During the 2013 Winter Event
Where: The garden of House 15
Warnings: Gory and sexual imagery, violence against ghosts(?)
By December, Manaka's garden has withered to nothing but a collection of dry and brittle sticks, devoid of greenery and life. Snow hangs heavily on the remains of once-flowering shrubs. Or, at least, that's how it would appear to any passerby—the garden has no gate, but the magic Manaka has left to mark its edges distorts its appearance to anyone outside its bounds. Underneath that spell, the flowers, laden with her magic and polluted energy, bloom in dazzling bright colors, as if the weather were of no concern at all.
But to Manaka's eyes, even they seem dull and faded beside the man standing there now, his expression a glowing smile.
"Ahh, Saber, Saber, Saber—!"
Her voice is ragged and gasping, overwhelmed and tortured and ecstatic, nothing like her usual sweet and childish tones. Her chest throbs and bleeds—it always bleeds, but she can feel the blood on her skin now, hot and slick, sticking to her underclothes. She thinks of his blade piercing her body, sliding sweetly through skin and bone and meat, and breathes as though there are hands wrapped around her throat.
"Saber— I've been waiting for you, Saber! I love you, Saber! I love you! I love you—!"
Standing outside in the snow, her body should be cold, but her breath feels blazingly hot on her lips. It feels hotter with every word she says, every time she repeats his name. No— Her whole body is alight.
It hurts, like she's burning to death in her wedding bed, but she's so happy.
She moves forward. The snow has piled deep by now, but she moves over it without sinking even an inch, as though she were weightless. She reaches for him, her arms flung forward in the desperate embrace of a lover, and his arms open for her, accepting her—
Except she tumbles through him, knees and splayed fingers sinking deeply into white covering the ground, as though he hadn't been there to catch her at all.
"...Ah?"
She stares down at her pale hands in the white snow. That's not where they should be. They should be wrapped around Saber, resting against his strong back. So, why...?
"—Ah—ha—"
Her strangled breath squeezes through her throat. When she finally looks up from where she has landed on the ground, her expression is uncharacteristically abashed and confused, her eyes wide and her lips parted. Why? Why? She glances back over her shoulder to where Saber stands. He's so beautiful that she can hardly see anything else when she looks at him, but she tries to look now.
Come to think of it—his weight hasn't left any impression in the snow, either, has it?
"You...! You're—"
She has been truly angry in this place only once before. That time, she felt furious and cold. Now, though, she feels warm—so warm that her blood must be boiling away, heat and anger filling her up until everything else inside her is nothing but ash.
"How dare you wear his face?!"
It's dark. But for her movements and the ghost's, the garden had been very still, but now the very shadows filling it seem to twist and move, lifting themselves from their natural positions. Something not-truly-solid, not-truly-there snaps upward, folding around that disgusting wraith like a bear trap, encasing it like an iron maiden made of nothing.
Beyond that, it's not flashy or exciting. Wrapped in shadows, the impostor dissolves, the only sound accompanying its destruction a strange grinding that is neither particularly comforting nor unnerving. Within a minute, the distortion of light has faded, leaving empty space behind where the phantom had stood a few moments earlier.
Up to her knees in snow, Manaka stands among her flowers, silent and alone.
What: A wandering spirit has taken the form of Manaka's prince
When: During the 2013 Winter Event
Where: The garden of House 15
Warnings: Gory and sexual imagery, violence against ghosts(?)
By December, Manaka's garden has withered to nothing but a collection of dry and brittle sticks, devoid of greenery and life. Snow hangs heavily on the remains of once-flowering shrubs. Or, at least, that's how it would appear to any passerby—the garden has no gate, but the magic Manaka has left to mark its edges distorts its appearance to anyone outside its bounds. Underneath that spell, the flowers, laden with her magic and polluted energy, bloom in dazzling bright colors, as if the weather were of no concern at all.
But to Manaka's eyes, even they seem dull and faded beside the man standing there now, his expression a glowing smile.
"Ahh, Saber, Saber, Saber—!"
Her voice is ragged and gasping, overwhelmed and tortured and ecstatic, nothing like her usual sweet and childish tones. Her chest throbs and bleeds—it always bleeds, but she can feel the blood on her skin now, hot and slick, sticking to her underclothes. She thinks of his blade piercing her body, sliding sweetly through skin and bone and meat, and breathes as though there are hands wrapped around her throat.
"Saber— I've been waiting for you, Saber! I love you, Saber! I love you! I love you—!"
Standing outside in the snow, her body should be cold, but her breath feels blazingly hot on her lips. It feels hotter with every word she says, every time she repeats his name. No— Her whole body is alight.
It hurts, like she's burning to death in her wedding bed, but she's so happy.
She moves forward. The snow has piled deep by now, but she moves over it without sinking even an inch, as though she were weightless. She reaches for him, her arms flung forward in the desperate embrace of a lover, and his arms open for her, accepting her—
Except she tumbles through him, knees and splayed fingers sinking deeply into white covering the ground, as though he hadn't been there to catch her at all.
"...Ah?"
She stares down at her pale hands in the white snow. That's not where they should be. They should be wrapped around Saber, resting against his strong back. So, why...?
"—Ah—ha—"
Her strangled breath squeezes through her throat. When she finally looks up from where she has landed on the ground, her expression is uncharacteristically abashed and confused, her eyes wide and her lips parted. Why? Why? She glances back over her shoulder to where Saber stands. He's so beautiful that she can hardly see anything else when she looks at him, but she tries to look now.
Come to think of it—his weight hasn't left any impression in the snow, either, has it?
"You...! You're—"
She has been truly angry in this place only once before. That time, she felt furious and cold. Now, though, she feels warm—so warm that her blood must be boiling away, heat and anger filling her up until everything else inside her is nothing but ash.
"How dare you wear his face?!"
It's dark. But for her movements and the ghost's, the garden had been very still, but now the very shadows filling it seem to twist and move, lifting themselves from their natural positions. Something not-truly-solid, not-truly-there snaps upward, folding around that disgusting wraith like a bear trap, encasing it like an iron maiden made of nothing.
Beyond that, it's not flashy or exciting. Wrapped in shadows, the impostor dissolves, the only sound accompanying its destruction a strange grinding that is neither particularly comforting nor unnerving. Within a minute, the distortion of light has faded, leaving empty space behind where the phantom had stood a few moments earlier.
Up to her knees in snow, Manaka stands among her flowers, silent and alone.