[ everything narrows as she fights the smoke, and she becomes only vaguely aware of the hand pulling her along. when she looks up, all she knows is the pattern of the wing that she follows,
the shape of a butterfly hanging in the air, guiding her away.
like the shadows morphing in and out of existence, shuten's stability of mind shifts with the weight of the rain on her body, the sound of viscous liquid hitting glass, concrete, sloshing under their heels. the blackened, overcast sky illuminates nothing, but the glow of the city against sheets of red flash through her vision, taking turns with the darkness that blots all else. it's maddening—
— ... and it's over before long. everything mutes: the pitter-patter of blood outside muffles, the darkness dissipates, the air freshens, ever so much. as she crosses the threshold with that butterfly, the shadows themselves are left at the doorstep and instantly collapse into a crimson puddle, melding with the darkness of the world outside once again.
despite the haze of her mind, shuten is less winded, but she finds her heart racing nevertheless. her eyes remain slightly wide, absorbing her surroundings as they come back into reality. the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, the lines of masks (shuten finds herself lingering on the blue oni, the singular cool tint amidst all this red, red), and at the center of this picture — she's face to face with a butterfly, lilac hues, the demon slayer turned away from her.
she stares. she stares a long while, remembering her. their last encounters, her living, breathing humanity ... and her beautiful rage.
it takes her a moment to understand what the girl is saying, given all that's happened. shuten's slim shoulders rise and fall, ever so slightly, as she gathers her bearings, and as her soul, ancient, elusive, dangerous, fills her countenance with animation once again.
finally, her eyes narrow, and they glint in the yellowed light. ]
... Kochou ... Shinobu?
[ she elongates each syllable like an inhale, breathing it in like new life.
in a way, it is. the name of the woman who saved her from reliving her fate.
her neck still stings.
she comes to — her fangs decorate her crawling smile as she tilts her head. she's alive. ]
Fu, fufu ... Fufufufu...!
[ she steps closer, tone of floating giggles tapering off to a sudden seriousness. ]
no subject
the shape of a butterfly hanging in the air, guiding her away.
like the shadows morphing in and out of existence, shuten's stability of mind shifts with the weight of the rain on her body, the sound of viscous liquid hitting glass, concrete, sloshing under their heels. the blackened, overcast sky illuminates nothing, but the glow of the city against sheets of red flash through her vision, taking turns with the darkness that blots all else. it's maddening—
— ... and it's over before long. everything mutes: the pitter-patter of blood outside muffles, the darkness dissipates, the air freshens, ever so much. as she crosses the threshold with that butterfly, the shadows themselves are left at the doorstep and instantly collapse into a crimson puddle, melding with the darkness of the world outside once again.
despite the haze of her mind, shuten is less winded, but she finds her heart racing nevertheless. her eyes remain slightly wide, absorbing her surroundings as they come back into reality. the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling, the lines of masks (shuten finds herself lingering on the blue oni, the singular cool tint amidst all this red, red), and at the center of this picture — she's face to face with a butterfly, lilac hues, the demon slayer turned away from her.
she stares. she stares a long while, remembering her. their last encounters, her living, breathing humanity ... and her beautiful rage.
it takes her a moment to understand what the girl is saying, given all that's happened. shuten's slim shoulders rise and fall, ever so slightly, as she gathers her bearings, and as her soul, ancient, elusive, dangerous, fills her countenance with animation once again.
finally, her eyes narrow, and they glint in the yellowed light. ]
... Kochou ... Shinobu?
[ she elongates each syllable like an inhale, breathing it in like new life.
in a way, it is. the name of the woman who saved her from reliving her fate.
her neck still stings.
she comes to — her fangs decorate her crawling smile as she tilts her head. she's alive. ]
Fu, fufu ... Fufufufu...!
[ she steps closer, tone of floating giggles tapering off to a sudden seriousness. ]
... Why ... did you do that?