THE CRIMSON MASK BEGINS (OR HAS LONG BEGUN) TO SHED THE MASK BEFORE APOCRIPHYS' PHAINON : "can you remember who you were?" (from phainon........) ( MUSINGS PROMPTS. ACCEPTING ! )
"I have never forgotten," is the response offered within an instant, a red rose's petal captured between the index and the thumb of her left hand. The touch is gentle, as she seeks not to pluck it from the flower. Red roses, red flowers... she favours them best. They remind her of many things.
They remind her of when there was still a lively thing in the hollow where her heart had used to be. They remind her of what her voice used to sound like, back when she still knew how to sing. They remind her of Gaia's gentle winds brushing through her hair. They remind her of a girl boldly proclaiming she will fill the hearts of everyone in the universe with love through her music! They remind her of when everything seemed simpler, when there was no burden on her soul, of innocence.
Ana-Maria almost does not want to leave this place, this beautiful sanctuary. Oh, she could live here forever, surrounded by red flowers! She could, perhaps, let her hair grow long again and she could teach herself anew how to sing. She could nearly remind herself how to weave notes together once more, she could delight in the flavour of freshly picked strawberries, she could...
...that is an idiotic dream, a naive make-believe, and you know better than to do this to yourself, Mya's stern presence cuts through the mirage briefly awakened by the sight of flowers. Is it such a horrible, terrible thing? Ana-Maria wonders still, To love all things that grow? To believe in the light? To want to sing again? You've stolen my face and my name and my life. Give them back to me! Give my own image back to me! Let me have all of myself back!
"My family chose a name for me that sounds unlike anything the one I give," she continues, a lump in her throat when she speaks. The rose is so delicate and so fragile... much like she was! She could easily crush it in her fist, much like this cruel universe once crushed her! And yet... and yet, she doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want to destroy the rose, though never once has the same mercy been extended towards her self.
"Ana-Maria," spoken with gravity, and a smile. "I was a very unruly child, you see. My mother used to procure for me all sorts of beautiful dresses, and I'd always get them filthy with dirt." Though she could nearly weep, a laugh creeps through the solemn, heavy sadness welling up in her chest. "I'd run around in puddles and tall grass all day. Then, as I grew older, my father taught me how to sing and create music. I told everyone I would become the next universal superstar, and that my music will bring joy to everyone around me."
Well, isn't there one in the universe who has already claimed this title? And can Mya say for sure she's seen happiness in the cosmic superstar's eyes? Truth is, when you are a child, things are simpler. The world is good, the light is kind, and you want to grow and show the world all the light inside of you. Only for the world to continue to batter your heart and bruise it and make you acquainted with its horrible cruelty and violence!
Finally, she releases the rose from her grasp, reaching for the one on her choker. Even with her eyes closed, she can still vividly see those scenes of destruction unfold, the massacre created in the madness that seemed to have overtaken every single Gaian left.
"My home world was faced with a Stellaron disaster," the story is told forth, "People had taken to slaughtering each other for the sake of survival in the wake of resources growing scarce. A terrible man took my father's life. I understood, even from back then, I needed to be something equally terrible in order to have the justice that was being perpetually denied to me. So, I spent years turning myself into that thing, that heartless thing required to murder my father's slayer. After that, I saw no use for singing and my whole world became dark and cold."
As if to say, I am a grand Nothing behind all this glamorous veneer of Elation.
"Who I was has never forsaken me, Phainon," Mya confesses, "She is always there, clawing at the back of my mind, telling me to cease pretending to be something I've never been meant to be. But, tell me, is a monster covered in blood right to want to love? Is it even supposed to still feel all of that yearning? Is it supposed to want to melt into another's arms and be carried away like those maidens in the tall tales of old?"
She sighs, and it is a sigh of burden. A yearning-sick and yearning-stricken sound, for no sane manner of being ought to want to stain their hands by touching her! Underneath the lovely face, underneath the red lipstick and the exquisite gowns and masks, there lies a ferocious demon in the shape of a wolf merely donning the face of a woman! And this beast better stay buried forever!
"I feel like she is tormenting me every single day," the redhead says on, gaze finally laid on him, "In how she aches for faith, for music, for all the things I kept denying myself as I believed them to be silly delusions that would only hurt in the end. But, the more I deny my heart's wishes, the more they burn me and torture me. The more they become ravenous things that eat at me. I ache for the simple touch of another on my hand, I ache for the knowing I am safe in the dark with one I trust, yet I dread that, one day, that dream will crumble as my old life did, and I'll be left a hollow, grieving shell again."
I have never forgotten. I dread remembering. I dread permitting myself to believe again as I do not wish for this cruel universe to mutilate my heart as it once did. So, I am perpetually at war with who I have always been & wanted to be. And I wish I could be free of it, even if only for one second, but the fear chokes the words in my throat and freezes me and leaves me as cold as ice. Though, within myself, I blaze like a thousand Suns. And... if I reach, I would never let go. If I reach, I would never go back. Can you tell, how afraid I am of being real? Of being me? Of being free? // @apocryphis