Ashes of a Flame
Feb. 2nd, 2006 02:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arsenicwaltz"He burns with his own ego, you know."
The girl is standing quietly in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror tucked away in part of the Palace that few know of and fewer visit. The girl's black gown rustles restively, but the girl in the mirror is lit oddly with the greenish cast of fluorescent lighting, and wears black jeans, a black sweater, and a long trench coat. Her hair is ragged, her fingernails bitten to nubs and her face is tired, and she blinks into the mirror, peering in as if looking through a poorly lit display case. It is the same girl, but it is not. Nearby on the Palace-side of the mirror, a standing candelabra casts a golden light that glints on the jet beads of her skirt, but that also casts a raking light across the gilt whorls of the mirror's frame. In the shadows cast by the flickering candles, one can see the word "VERITAS".
Death looks up at the girl from her crosslegged seat on a nearby fainting couch, and cocks her head questioningly. The girl continues.
"I stood here with him in my arms and in my heart, and you know what I saw in the mirror?" She pauses momentarily, brooding at the memory. "I saw a man aflame, awash in his own self centered pursuit of pleasure. It was a death's head, a grim reaper, with hair of fire. And..." she chokes, "... and with my arms around him, I saw... Beside me, I saw..."
"Me." Death nods, comfortingly. "It's a good thing you aren't still chasing the Flame then, isn't it?"
The girl nods, unhappily, reaching for a tasseled cord by the side of the mirror, by which she lowers a long swath of golden velvet over it, as if to shut out a draught from the other side. The greenish light is smothered behind the fabric's thick pile. She stands, fidgeting restlessly with the tassel, a frown creasing her brow.
"But, that's not what's bothering you, is it?" Death prompts quietly. "You'd let him find his own way into my realm, because it's not your way to interfere with his karmic debt. Good girl. So..."
"It's his conquests! His girlfriends, his playtoys!" she blurts. The force of her words takes something out of her, and she sinks to the floor beside the fainting couch, head in hands. "I'm one of them. I was one of them. But the more I see the women he keeps company with, the worse I feel about it - his choices of partners reflect poorly on my own worth." The girl lets out a shuddering sigh, one hand dropping from her face to clench and unclench convulsively on her knee. "I even... felt sorry for her, for this last one. They seemed so damn happy at first, but he's just a total headcase, and no girl deserves that." She grimaces. "Well, almost no girl."
Death strokes her hair gently. "So what's the problem?"
Her eyes are closed now, as if to shut out the painful truth. "I'm starting to dislike him, as a person. It has the potential to fester into something like we had going all those years. I'm just about ready to chop off that limb now, to save myself the pain of having to watch him burning in the bed he buttered all by himself." Her face is pained as she looks up at Death, beseeching.
"I don't think I want to be his friend anymore."
The girl is standing quietly in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror tucked away in part of the Palace that few know of and fewer visit. The girl's black gown rustles restively, but the girl in the mirror is lit oddly with the greenish cast of fluorescent lighting, and wears black jeans, a black sweater, and a long trench coat. Her hair is ragged, her fingernails bitten to nubs and her face is tired, and she blinks into the mirror, peering in as if looking through a poorly lit display case. It is the same girl, but it is not. Nearby on the Palace-side of the mirror, a standing candelabra casts a golden light that glints on the jet beads of her skirt, but that also casts a raking light across the gilt whorls of the mirror's frame. In the shadows cast by the flickering candles, one can see the word "VERITAS".
Death looks up at the girl from her crosslegged seat on a nearby fainting couch, and cocks her head questioningly. The girl continues.
"I stood here with him in my arms and in my heart, and you know what I saw in the mirror?" She pauses momentarily, brooding at the memory. "I saw a man aflame, awash in his own self centered pursuit of pleasure. It was a death's head, a grim reaper, with hair of fire. And..." she chokes, "... and with my arms around him, I saw... Beside me, I saw..."
"Me." Death nods, comfortingly. "It's a good thing you aren't still chasing the Flame then, isn't it?"
The girl nods, unhappily, reaching for a tasseled cord by the side of the mirror, by which she lowers a long swath of golden velvet over it, as if to shut out a draught from the other side. The greenish light is smothered behind the fabric's thick pile. She stands, fidgeting restlessly with the tassel, a frown creasing her brow.
"But, that's not what's bothering you, is it?" Death prompts quietly. "You'd let him find his own way into my realm, because it's not your way to interfere with his karmic debt. Good girl. So..."
"It's his conquests! His girlfriends, his playtoys!" she blurts. The force of her words takes something out of her, and she sinks to the floor beside the fainting couch, head in hands. "I'm one of them. I was one of them. But the more I see the women he keeps company with, the worse I feel about it - his choices of partners reflect poorly on my own worth." The girl lets out a shuddering sigh, one hand dropping from her face to clench and unclench convulsively on her knee. "I even... felt sorry for her, for this last one. They seemed so damn happy at first, but he's just a total headcase, and no girl deserves that." She grimaces. "Well, almost no girl."
Death strokes her hair gently. "So what's the problem?"
Her eyes are closed now, as if to shut out the painful truth. "I'm starting to dislike him, as a person. It has the potential to fester into something like we had going all those years. I'm just about ready to chop off that limb now, to save myself the pain of having to watch him burning in the bed he buttered all by himself." Her face is pained as she looks up at Death, beseeching.
"I don't think I want to be his friend anymore."
