Post by Alecto on Apr 21, 2021 10:27:27 GMT -8
The sun wouldn't come to rest for another couple of hours, but the timing was predictable.
The shutter blinds plunged the apartment into darkness, as the daughter of a wounded sky and blooded earth slid the match between calloused fingers. The chemical pop illuminated Grim features; a madness awakened from an endless hunt, leaving a luminous stain over the humanity in her eyes.
And so the ritual begins, the table growing in its hearth as she lights the candles.
The meat is pulled from the bones of the ribs, placing the offering to a table set for five. The wine is poured for a glass normally not permitted for such indulgence. The package of a tightly wrapped bauble sits on a handwritten note of a promise that she never forgot.
Alecto's gaze flicks to the clock that seared from the glass of the stovetop, tucking the worn fabric of a dress of untold summers, before she drives her spirit into the heart of an empty void.
As she sits, the apartment lights up, peeling back the exile like a flame to a photograph. And there she sat among a full table, beholding her children as their father balanced the plate. Her youngest wanted to try and serve the food, but their hands weren't big enough just yet and he caught the edge with the subtle nudge of his fingertips. Her own voice laughed at the spectacle, asking how the wedding planning was going to a face she was unfamiliar with. That one was sitting next to her eldest daughter.
The voice broke as Alecto's on fury and sorrow crushed the part of her that allowed the Fetch to live. She had It then, knowing It couldn't abandon their child's sweet sixteen out of sheer malice. The emotions were a push and pull, before they could settle on the sacred peace their family could bring them. She took up the song, synchronizing her own voice in the silent void of a reflection; painful laughter clawed free of the tyranny of a clenching throat. Her joy is a rebellion. Her sorrow is a motivator. Her fear is a warning.
Her unrelenting rage is a prayer offered to forces that promised her justice.
The shutter blinds plunged the apartment into darkness, as the daughter of a wounded sky and blooded earth slid the match between calloused fingers. The chemical pop illuminated Grim features; a madness awakened from an endless hunt, leaving a luminous stain over the humanity in her eyes.
And so the ritual begins, the table growing in its hearth as she lights the candles.
The meat is pulled from the bones of the ribs, placing the offering to a table set for five. The wine is poured for a glass normally not permitted for such indulgence. The package of a tightly wrapped bauble sits on a handwritten note of a promise that she never forgot.
Alecto's gaze flicks to the clock that seared from the glass of the stovetop, tucking the worn fabric of a dress of untold summers, before she drives her spirit into the heart of an empty void.
As she sits, the apartment lights up, peeling back the exile like a flame to a photograph. And there she sat among a full table, beholding her children as their father balanced the plate. Her youngest wanted to try and serve the food, but their hands weren't big enough just yet and he caught the edge with the subtle nudge of his fingertips. Her own voice laughed at the spectacle, asking how the wedding planning was going to a face she was unfamiliar with. That one was sitting next to her eldest daughter.
The voice broke as Alecto's on fury and sorrow crushed the part of her that allowed the Fetch to live. She had It then, knowing It couldn't abandon their child's sweet sixteen out of sheer malice. The emotions were a push and pull, before they could settle on the sacred peace their family could bring them. She took up the song, synchronizing her own voice in the silent void of a reflection; painful laughter clawed free of the tyranny of a clenching throat. Her joy is a rebellion. Her sorrow is a motivator. Her fear is a warning.
Her unrelenting rage is a prayer offered to forces that promised her justice.