storie brevi
Series Metadata
Listing Series
-
Tags
Summary
On a day like this she'd very much like to do nothing but stay inside and wallow in her misery, a privilege she was never granted until recently, and that even more recently has been newly taken away. Turns out that having a job, whether as a god or as a human, severely limits one's “wallowing in misery” time. What a scam.
Still, at least the has the evening to look forward to.
Or
Furina has a bad day. Arlecchino makes it better.
Series
- Part 1 of storie brevi
-
Tags
Summary
The first time it happened, she dismissed it, assuming she had simply gone mad. The second, third, and fourth times, she did the same. But eventually she started paying attention to the words, and learned things a maddened mind shouldn’t have been able to conjure on its own—information she should have had no way of knowing, delivered straight from cold, stilled lips. By the first time the voices materialized into a tangible shadow for someone else to witness, she had already accepted her own sanity.
It hadn't taken long after that to learn how to tune them out. Dead people hardly make for good conversationalists, after all, and these particular voices had little worth listening to in life either.
Even so, there will be bad days. There will be days when more than just a handful of voices resurface, when their weak, fading moans turn into an overwhelming tide of pain. There will be days the dull ache in her charred arms sharpens, the heat beneath her skin stirring into something hotter, more unbearable. Even those days she has learned to cope with.
Today is not one of those days.
Today is worse.
Or
Arlecchino has a bad day. Furina makes it better.
Series
- Part 2 of storie brevi
-
Tags
Summary
She should return it, she thinks. But that would mean seeing Arlecchino again, speaking to her, having to face those terrifying, sharp eyes that seem to cut through centuries of performance to something real underneath—something even Furina herself can no longer identify with certainty.
She tucks the fabric into her sleeve, rising unsteadily to her feet. Her legs tremble slightly, the aftermath of adrenaline leaving her muscles weak and quivering as she moves to the small window, desperate for fresh air.
Outside, evening has fallen over Fontaine, the city lights beginning to twinkle against the deepening blue. Somewhere among them, Arlecchino moves through the shadows, once again carrying the knowledge of Furina's unmasked self—carrying the memory of a moment when pretense fell away, leaving only truth in its wake.
She presses her fingers against the cool glass, watching her breath fog the pane. The handkerchief in her sleeve feels impossibly heavy for such a small thing.
"What do you see when you look at me?" she whispers to the absent Harbinger. "What even is there left to see?"
Or
Furina struggles to tell act and truth apart. Arlecchino sees through her with uncomfortable clarity.
Series
- Part 3 of storie brevi