There are no crafty letters with this one, no colorful ribbons. No play that Santa got lost. Where the other presents were delivered with a cheeky smile on her face in the middle of the afternoon, Rin waits before she sets out with these ones, empty of expression. Waits until late, late, late night, where surely even the insomniacs must have tucked indoors by this hour.
It's the first time she's visited the treehouse since that incident with Sakura.
That isn't what made her stay away.
The door creaks beneath Rin's hand as she presses it shut behind her. Combing fingers through her long brown hair, she walks slowly. Past the bookcases. Past a kitchen: chairs, mugs, dishes, everything built for two. The treehouse is silent but for the wind outside and Rin's slow footfalls as she moves up the stairs, towards the bedroom that waits on the second level. And when she reaches the threshold, she pauses. Waits for her eyes to adjust.
She could turn a light on, but it feels more fitting this way.]
[The toys and the bed get ignored by her. Marching to the center of the room, Rin has eyes for one piece of furniture only: a simple dresser. That item she saw while passing the time waiting for Sakura to wake up... Will it still be here, she wonders?
Moonlight streaming through the windowpane catches it: a flower made of glass. A tangible thing outside of her imagination, it stands as stark proof she wasn't wrong.]
I know there were two of you.
[Rin does not raise her voice. In the quiet in this empty room, she feels like she's standing over a grave. That's good, she thinks. She didn't get that feeling standing across from those strange, faceless statues. Blinking slowly, Rin lightly runs a finger across a glass petal.]
I remember making this, though not for myself. [Turning her head, she reaches with her one free hand for an item in her pocket.] This too.
[Besides the glass flower, she sets down a bookmark of pressed, echo flowers.]
It's not mine, so I don't want it. [Her voice sounds empty of anger to her own ears, so Rin knows she must be angry and upset beyond the ability to express it. Not even to a ghost will she show her true thoughts.] But I'll keep the book.
[A long silence follows, as Rin recalls what brought her here. The frustrating gaps in her memory, the puzzle pieces left behind. None of it matters, she had told herself in front of Wade, but no matter how often she insisted that to herself, it stubbornly would not sit well in her gut. Not when she'd try to recall something important, or visit the statues...
...and not when she'd open her chest to a messy array of projects, left unfinished and abandoned in December. Christmas presents she had gleefully planned to craft with her own two hands, and distribute to the few people she, if not necessarily liked, appreciated the presence of.
Two pairs of child-sizedice skates had been among those projects. It's these skates Rin has brought with her now, held at the laces. Carefully, she sets them to the side of the drawer.]
These were for you as well, I'm sure. If not for the fact I had two of them and those statues, I might not have figured things out. I have no place for them, so I'll be leaving them here. I don't know which pair was for who, so you'll have to settle that amongst yourselves.
[She's not sure how she feels about this. Any of this.]
[In hindsight, she's at least grateful for the statues. Without them, her train of thought would have likely concluded the Queen had abducted two persons of some importance, and erased their memory of them. She can't confirm or deny whether the latter is true, but the statues would not be there if the bodies they represented were still in the castle.
Whoever they were, they're not here. There's no one to rescue, just someone to move on from.
Rin doesn't like being angry for long. She doesn't like that deep hurt of grieving. If it's painful, wouldn't life be better learning your lesson and getting on with it?
Since Leo showed up, she feels a bit more like her productive self again. Missions in the castle are getting back underway, and lining out a clear purpose. Seeing a chance to start fresh, Rin began March with the goal of cheering herself up. She cooked exciting things. Secretly made a birthday cake for her sister. While looking for a change of bedsheets, she stumbled across those old unfinished Christmas projects too and set to completing them, spending all of today delivering them and clearing those metaphorical cobwebs out of her heart.
The skates she finished as well. Bringing them here was the last task she had set for herself to bring this chapter to a close. It's hurt her long enough already, she feels entitled to some measure of selfish catharsis. Using a wind spell, she moves around the faint layers of dust that have begun to settle in the room, so that they might brush against the ice skates as well. Make them look like they've always belonged here.]
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achievementhunter) wrote2016-03-01 01:56 pm
March 6
There are no crafty letters with this one, no colorful ribbons. No play that Santa got lost. Where the other presents were delivered with a cheeky smile on her face in the middle of the afternoon, Rin waits before she sets out with these ones, empty of expression. Waits until late, late, late night, where surely even the insomniacs must have tucked indoors by this hour.
It's the first time she's visited the treehouse since that incident with Sakura.
That isn't what made her stay away.
The door creaks beneath Rin's hand as she presses it shut behind her. Combing fingers through her long brown hair, she walks slowly. Past the bookcases. Past a kitchen: chairs, mugs, dishes, everything built for two. The treehouse is silent but for the wind outside and Rin's slow footfalls as she moves up the stairs, towards the bedroom that waits on the second level. And when she reaches the threshold, she pauses. Waits for her eyes to adjust.
She could turn a light on, but it feels more fitting this way.]
no subject
Moonlight streaming through the windowpane catches it: a flower made of glass. A tangible thing outside of her imagination, it stands as stark proof she wasn't wrong.]
I know there were two of you.
[Rin does not raise her voice. In the quiet in this empty room, she feels like she's standing over a grave. That's good, she thinks. She didn't get that feeling standing across from those strange, faceless statues. Blinking slowly, Rin lightly runs a finger across a glass petal.]
I remember making this, though not for myself. [Turning her head, she reaches with her one free hand for an item in her pocket.] This too.
[Besides the glass flower, she sets down a bookmark of pressed, echo flowers.]
It's not mine, so I don't want it. [Her voice sounds empty of anger to her own ears, so Rin knows she must be angry and upset beyond the ability to express it. Not even to a ghost will she show her true thoughts.] But I'll keep the book.
no subject
...and not when she'd open her chest to a messy array of projects, left unfinished and abandoned in December. Christmas presents she had gleefully planned to craft with her own two hands, and distribute to the few people she, if not necessarily liked, appreciated the presence of.
Two pairs of child-sized ice skates had been among those projects. It's these skates Rin has brought with her now, held at the laces. Carefully, she sets them to the side of the drawer.]
These were for you as well, I'm sure. If not for the fact I had two of them and those statues, I might not have figured things out. I have no place for them, so I'll be leaving them here. I don't know which pair was for who, so you'll have to settle that amongst yourselves.
[She's not sure how she feels about this. Any of this.]
no subject
Whoever they were, they're not here. There's no one to rescue, just someone to move on from.
Rin doesn't like being angry for long. She doesn't like that deep hurt of grieving. If it's painful, wouldn't life be better learning your lesson and getting on with it?
Since Leo showed up, she feels a bit more like her productive self again. Missions in the castle are getting back underway, and lining out a clear purpose. Seeing a chance to start fresh, Rin began March with the goal of cheering herself up. She cooked exciting things. Secretly made a birthday cake for her sister. While looking for a change of bedsheets, she stumbled across those old unfinished Christmas projects too and set to completing them, spending all of today delivering them and clearing those metaphorical cobwebs out of her heart.
The skates she finished as well. Bringing them here was the last task she had set for herself to bring this chapter to a close. It's hurt her long enough already, she feels entitled to some measure of selfish catharsis. Using a wind spell, she moves around the faint layers of dust that have begun to settle in the room, so that they might brush against the ice skates as well. Make them look like they've always belonged here.]
Done
That's all I have to say.
[And then Rin goes.
She doesn't feel good, but she does feel better.]