Hmph. Horrors. You're not scary enough for horrors.
[lmao] You're right. It should always be your decision. No matter what it is.
[i will not pin you down, she'd said, a million years ago. it's still true. and she's going to say more, it's just that a pig comes screaming by.
You are sitting in the garden of your childhood home, in a little village that you've grown up in. You are six years old, and your father has been away for a year, though you're not sure why. It makes you sad, sometimes, when you think about it. Your mother is gone, and the village takes turns making sure that you aren't starving, but for the most part, you're just alone, making up stories and playing with the stray dogs in the village. It's lonely. You're very lonely.
So when your father returns after that year, and he gives you a smile that borders on manic, you don't notice how it looks. You're overjoyed - father is back, and maybe this time, he won't leave. Maybe this time your curse won't drive him away. You can be good this time. You will find a way to make sure that you don't hurt him or anybody else ever again. Maybe he's forgiven you for what happened to your mother. Maybe he's forgiven you for being a curse.
He doesn't even wash up, when he returns. He comes straight to the garden and smiles widely at you, and says that you should come with him to the cave in the mountains behind the village. He has a surprise for you, to make up for the fact that he hasn't been home. You don't really hope for much, but. A toy would be nice! Maybe a kite, or something that the two of you can play with together.
Your father brings you to the cave. You make sure your long black hair is out of the way, ready for whatever the surprise is.
But he barely even pays attention to you as he strides into the cave. He goes right to the altar in the middle, constructed out of stone, and he flicks through a book, and he mutters. And you take a step forward because you're unsure. Maybe you should help? You take another step forward, and then - out of the book swirls something dark and hideous, a black and rotting creature that has no shape at first as it crawls out. It drips out of the book, and your father turns and starts to walk away.
You're confused - you're a little scared, so you say, "Father?" and he ignores you, and so you look back at the shadows that soak down out of the pages, and you see it is growing teeth. It is watching you with bright blood-red eyes, and when it meets your gaze, it licks its lips.
You stumble back, and you start to cry - you are six years old, and this is the scariest thing you've ever seen - and you turn and race after your father. This isn't what he meant, right? This can't be the surprise - but he pushes you to the ground and sneers at you.
"You are a cursed child," he spits, and you stare up at him from where you're crumpled on the ground. You reach for him. No, it - no, this time, it'll be better. This time you won't bring ruin to everybody around you, you promise, you will find a way to be good, but he just shakes his head and keeps walking. "Your life brings nothing but disaster to us all."
You stand, shakily, and run, but something grabs your leg, and you scream as the monster drags you back. Your father leaves.
"At least if you die, I can bring her back." And the light from outside vanishes as the monster pulls you towards it's mouth.
But as a child - a child who hasn't grown up just yet, a child who hasn't forsaken emotion and the joys of living because you know that you aren't allowed those anymore - you don't want to die. You want to play outside, and you want to make friends with the other children in the village, and you want your mother back, and you want your father to love you, and you don't want to die you don't want to die you want to live --
The sleeping calamitous fates, violent urges, and unyielding spirit within you burst their bonds all at once. They are your unseen shield, your invisible blade, and they are all that your frail form has to protect yourself. You have a dagger that belonged to your mother. Instinct has you cut open part of the monster and it wails, and you run to hide. Your next attack is with fangs and claws; you swear to tear that wretched creature before you to shreds — to prove that you, and not it, are the cruelest evil that stalked the darkness.
For days, your life-and-death battle is one without end. Hunter and hunted switch places many times, the conflict locked in stalemate. Sometimes it rips at your skin and sometimes it just chases you when it finds you. Sometimes you beat it back just enough to find some time to rest. But you are exhausted. You can't sleep. You're hungry, and you're thirsty, and everything hurts, but you don't want to die. You refuse. You won't. But there's only so much that your tiny body can handle, and eventually, you collapse. You're afraid. You know it is coming, the monster, with its snakelike body and hungry maw. But you can't find the strength to continue.
And that's when the tide changes.
A vivid icy light pierces through the dark like skyglow, showing the path to the future. A crystalline object falls down from nowhere, into your hands. You look down at it shakily, trying to breathe. You know, instinctively, that this will allow you to wield ice. That you can use this to decide which monster will live, and which will die.
You pull yourself to your feet one more time. You wipe the tears away.
It's the last time you ever cried. It's the last time you felt anything at all.
Rang watches the memory play out in his mind's eye -- he recognizes the story immediately from what little Shenhe's told him.
but as expected, a tale from an opera is no comparison to the real thing. There's a difference between hearing Shenhe recount it in her calm manner, and then seeing the Shenhe of this story -- driven by desperation and hope, fear, rage. And then, nothing. No emotion at all. He notes the color of her hair -- it was black from tip to end once, the tears he's never seen Shenhe shed even when she arrived here. Everything she lost in that cave, everything she gained in return.
but gaining doesn't erase the loss in the first place. he should know.]
I hate snakes. [FIRST OF ALL] And I still hate your father as much as I did when you told me your story.
[she laughs - just a huff, a heh, at his comment about snakes. yeah. her too.]
Lambda told me that she would not blame me if I wanted to hurt him. [she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.] I don't. But I do think that the longer I am here, the more I am growing to hate what he did to me.
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no subject
...I'd probably be more dangerous if I was set free. [but the tone of his voice doesn't sound very convinced on it,]
But our fates should be up to us, right? Whatever horrors I commit -- it should be solely mine, so that I don't have someone else to blame.
no subject
[lmao] You're right. It should always be your decision. No matter what it is.
[i will not pin you down, she'd said, a million years ago. it's still true. and she's going to say more, it's just that a pig comes screaming by.
and shenhe sighs, bringing a hand to her face.]
no subject
Rang watches the memory play out in his mind's eye -- he recognizes the story immediately from what little Shenhe's told him.
but as expected, a tale from an opera is no comparison to the real thing. There's a difference between hearing Shenhe recount it in her calm manner, and then seeing the Shenhe of this story -- driven by desperation and hope, fear, rage. And then, nothing. No emotion at all. He notes the color of her hair -- it was black from tip to end once, the tears he's never seen Shenhe shed even when she arrived here. Everything she lost in that cave, everything she gained in return.
but gaining doesn't erase the loss in the first place. he should know.]
I hate snakes. [FIRST OF ALL] And I still hate your father as much as I did when you told me your story.
no subject
Lambda told me that she would not blame me if I wanted to hurt him. [she says, tucking her hair behind her ear.] I don't. But I do think that the longer I am here, the more I am growing to hate what he did to me.