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estdeus_innobisWednesday, sometime, somewhere in Dream
Once upon time there was a beautiful princess. Her hair was the colour of jet and her skin was the colour of nutmeg, and each of her teeth were like pearls. Flowers grew where she walked, so that the fields around the tower that was her home was carpeted in blooms as white as snow. The princess was very happy, all save for one thing: her fear that one day the thorn of one of the flowers would prick her. Her servants combed the field for thorns every day, trimming the stems so that it would be safe for her to walk. But still the princess was afraid, and she neglected to notice that each month the forest encroached closer on her home, until one day, standing in her field of flowers, she looked up to see the trees looming around her, undergrowth thick with thorns. Frightened, she fled inside, and as she ran she began her first bleeding, and the blood that trickled down her thigh fell to the earth and stained the roses around the tower a deep and brilliant red.
Inside the tower the princess was afraid that she was dying, for her father had always insisted that royal blood was the most precious of all things and must never be spilled. Weeping, she showed the blood to her old nurse, who laughed and kissed her cheek and told her this was the secret gift of women, and now she was blessed. So the princess wiped her eyes, and was no longer afraid of bleeding. But the thorns of the forest came for her all the same.
Once upon time there was a beautiful princess. Her hair was the colour of jet and her skin was the colour of nutmeg, and each of her teeth were like pearls. Flowers grew where she walked, so that the fields around the tower that was her home was carpeted in blooms as white as snow. The princess was very happy, all save for one thing: her fear that one day the thorn of one of the flowers would prick her. Her servants combed the field for thorns every day, trimming the stems so that it would be safe for her to walk. But still the princess was afraid, and she neglected to notice that each month the forest encroached closer on her home, until one day, standing in her field of flowers, she looked up to see the trees looming around her, undergrowth thick with thorns. Frightened, she fled inside, and as she ran she began her first bleeding, and the blood that trickled down her thigh fell to the earth and stained the roses around the tower a deep and brilliant red.
Inside the tower the princess was afraid that she was dying, for her father had always insisted that royal blood was the most precious of all things and must never be spilled. Weeping, she showed the blood to her old nurse, who laughed and kissed her cheek and told her this was the secret gift of women, and now she was blessed. So the princess wiped her eyes, and was no longer afraid of bleeding. But the thorns of the forest came for her all the same.
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Date: 2011-03-29 08:59 pm (UTC)I weep for him, for I know that he suffered in a way he should not have had to, but he made choices and so did I, choices that were given as a gift. I will not be ungrateful for any gift.
I do not hurt anymore. I am cold.
My eyes should be next.
Yes, but my hand is too numb to hold the knife, the knife which seems so terribly heavy now. And I think that my friend has strength enough now, strength enough that she woke and she walked from here, and she smiled at me. I was so very glad to see her. She was never meant to sleep in such a way. "You will not undermine her sacrifice, Lucien Constantine," she said to the golden-haired man, and I was glad to hear that too. The sacrifice was my choice. It was not my golden fish, killed by the malice of others and offering his bones to me...it was an offering of me, by my own decision, the only offering that I could make.
The golden-haired man, the one who carried me though I cried for him to stop, who tried to stop me, he wept over me. I wonder why, for I do not know him.