main blog: @neronoru-shipper/in the fandom of UT|DR|CR/countryH|P|A// 18 years old/ likes: cats, draw, read and play videogames/ 21 of may uwu(my birthday)
summary: pierrot’s point of view. dreams and other stuff.
a/n: never beta read. yes. i know. it is a stupid question. BUT I LIKE IT. i love that question because it is really deep! because truly the question is never truly about being a worm. it is literally a question, would you still love me if i was of no value to you? a question of if, i am sick and unable to take care of myself, would you actually go the mile and take care of me? though i enjoy writing this chapter. I feel like I have improved a lot from the first couple of chapters, getting my voice in how to write. nvn. ALSO BLAME ABOUT 36.2% OF 200 THAT CHOSE THE RED TENT, Y’ALL— I SHOULD ALSO WRITE THOSE GRIEF LIL THINGS HAHA
the grass swayed in the gentle soft caress of the wind. it moved like a whispered prayer. his golden eyes swept across the familiar stretch of fields. the field stretched beneath the clear skies. the field was lush and green with wildflowers with an array of vibrant colours. ipê trees were a beautiful shade of yellow. softer than his eyes. but he could not help but reminisce his past. his mother… his father. he took in a deep breath. the air tasted warm somehow. there was even a faint lingering taste of coffee from such a distant. he was a monster. much different from the humans. he had never belonged anywhere amongst the humans… however in this field… this small handful of light and stillness… had once had been theirs. and for a quiet a moment, his ears twitched. hearing footsteps but his nose had picked up a familiar scent that had his heart blossom. there you were. impossibly there… beautiful like the day you saved him and rose… columbina. he remembered that day like he could retell every minuscule detail of that perfect day.
your smile so radiant that it was so bright sometimes… however, even if he were to ever go blind, he would gladly if he could seared your smile in his memory. you stood at the centre. you were not fully turned away from him. your shoulders loose and relaxed. wearing the same cotton shirt. but you were somehow barefoot. dirty frelimo the soil. the way you shifted your weight every once in a while. or how you would tilt your head as you inspect things… something he had memorised across the the time he had memorised. it felt like he had known you for decades. and he couldn’t move… he was simply paralysed. watching you so idly there. so beautiful. so warm. so colourful… so alive. then you had finally turned towards him. and his breath hitched. your face was exactly how he remembered it. it was not a blur that faded at the edges. or some static noise… down to every small little scar to the way your smile.
❝ topaz ❞ you called out to him. the name you had given to him. a name that had became a treasure in itself. and he only ached to hear you say it. ❝ i have a question ❞ you asked. he moved close. closing the distance between the both of you. wanting to feel how real you were. the solid fact that you were breathing in the same space as him. he felt something deep inside him was telling him to stop. to hold himself back. because the fragility of the light… like… like then… but he couldn’t stop himself. he just needed to feel you. to touch you. ❝ would you love me… ❞ you had tilted your head with that familiar gesture that he had memorised. ❝ if i were a worm? ❞ you asked. the question was so absurd. stupid. confusing. it was so whimsical while holding a hint of insecurity. something so human. and you asked him would he still love you if you were a worm… you who had looked and seen his monstrous form and see a home. see safety… not something terrifying. something that was worth loving and caring. and you were asking this?
you had asked him if he would love you… in the smallest yet fragile version of yourself. as if love was something that can be measured and withdrawn. ❛ foolish ❜ he thought to himself. ❛ so utterly foolish ❜ because he already knew the answer. ❝ i would love you ❞ he said. and his words felt like truth… the first truth he had spoken in so long. he took in a deep breath. his claws clutching at his chest. ❝ i would love you if you were a worm in the earth, blind and small. ❞ he stepped closer towards you. his hands yearned to hold you. ❝ i would love you if you were rain that cascades and drips on the ground and soil… here and then gone ❞ his voice seem to grow strain. his eyes seem to hold onto your silhouette with a desperation that he saw in himself. ❝ every single version of you ❞ he continued. his voice breaking down on every syllable. ❝ is worth every once of love i possess. every iteration. every shape. every form you have ever worn or will ever wear. ❞ his voice shook now. ❝ you as a worm. you as a memory. you as dust ❞ his hands shook, as he was so close.
❝ you as gone ❞ he croaked. it was when the light hit off your figure just wrong. it was so subtle but he noticed it. he could feel like it was a wound that was horribly stitched… reopening once more. the surroundings started to lose its colour. your figure that was so solid, beloved…. so real… began to soften around the edges. as though you were not made of flesh and blood. but a haze you would only see from the warm earth at dusk. ❝ no ❞ his voice cried out. his hands trying to grasp you in his arms. pulling you close. ❝ no, please. not again ❞ he cried. his face crumbled. his heart was crumbling so loudly. as his hands grasped at nothing at air. like a cloud that dispersed in his arms. he turned to look at you. as you held his gaze. your smile had gentled into something sorrowful. you tried to say something to him. bur your voice started to dissolve… becoming one with the rustle of the grass. becoming one with the distant cry of a bird.
the field slowly starts to dissolve. as he stood there. feeling the world caves and he stood there, his hands twitched and ached. the world was crumbling around him, everything felt like static. he closed his eyes. letting out a wet sob. his shoulders shook. as the world around him became dark once more. leaving him alone in the spiral of his heavy emotions that consumed him and kept him in grief’s sharp strong jaws.
then his eyes snapped open. his face was damp. his wet eyes opened to the darkness. the ceiling of the trailer. it was morning. the air was different from the fresh air of the field. it carried the sweetness of sugar but not the same one that was carried from distant trade. there was no ipê trees. no wildflowers. no high grass. no clear skies. there was no… you. the weight of it settled into him slowly. it had all been a dream. all of it. the field. the light. the question. the answer he had meant with every single fibre in his being… it was nothing more than the cruelty of the mind. however, he knew that the loss was not a dream. the loss was something that had happened. you had long gone for awhile now. years. long enough that the earth no longer remembered the shape of you. he tried his best to close his eyes again. attempt not to move. wondering if he had stayed very still if he had concentrated hard enough… that he can find his way back to that field where you stood.
back to you. where you were solid, alive and breathing. that you would turn towards him, beaming like the sun you were. where the answer would be on his lips forever. yet he waited. and sleep did not come easily. he laid on his bed. his hands reached to his head. rubbing the tears away. before finally he had pushed himself up. feeling the emptiness lingering in his chest. his back hunched. his head hung low. as he stared at his hands, his claws. another day once more. the schedule he had memorised the night prior when ticket taker had given to him. pierrot was supposed to be handing out fliers alongside harlequin today… and he… did not want to do it. not finding the motivation. but knowing he had to. he had to do something to get his mind off of things.
so he chose to weep. great. heavily. shaking. they were soundless sobs that shook his enormous frame. wondering why must his dreams be so sweet yet so cruel to him. pierrot’s hands clutched at his chest with a deep to feel something warm again.
——————————————————————————
the day continued in a rhythm that he was so familiar to. the injuries he had sustained this morning had easily patched up quickly. humans again. just like what jester had said, humans did not love. how they are not kind. how they were all monsters who crave to see others in pain, to see others humiliated. how they all took pleasure in hurting each other. though when he remembered how jester had said those words. he seem to always twirl his hair between his hair. like he was remembering something. like there was one person aside from him and ticket taker was given the chance to get as close to his hair. them. they were different. he knew jester would never mean them. never them. rubbing at his cheek. even when the pain had long faded now, it had this lingering sensation that he had grown to get used to. the silent pierrot was quiet. his mind was long elsewhere once more.
today was a strange day. his sleep. his dreams were usually always so… quiet. empty almost. like there was nothing to truly dream about. unless it was the same nightmare. the taste of blood and salt… of acidic bile lingering in the back of his throat. the sensation of crushing bone that vibrate along his jaw. he closed his eyes. covering his mouth. remembering the words. ❛ don’t . waste . them ❜ harlequin had said those words. while he shoved torn flesh into his mouth, even when he felt ill. even when all he can taste was salt and blood. it was at that moment, he remembered how sickening it felt to eat someone you cared about. someone you love that you could not enjoy the nourishment that was supposed to aid in their recovery. he remembered how soon enough, his own mind went blank. the awful fact of blood… of how wet it was. the way it dried on his palms. how bits of flesh and blood caked beneath his claws. he had experienced another grief that hollowed him out…
even now, while the whole circus was at full swing. he was in the motion. the dream had been clear cut and felt an extreme whiplash that had him still dazed. the entire day, he was in a complete daze. ❛ clumsy ❜ he remembered harlequin teased at him. and he was too mentally exhausted that he couldn’t really make a comment. while he idly floating around. even when his own performance was going to start eventually. soon after columbina’s performance. a strict schedule he had to follow. he needed silence. he always did. yet he could not truly escape the noise. the meaningless chatter of the circus goers. the laughter. the whispers. it made his mind feel like static. just as he had rounded the corner a little too quickly. his mind was elsewhere, trying to reminisce on the smell of ipê, coffee beans… the scent of soap… on the very laughter he believed he could still hear if he stood still enough. that was when he had collided against someone. making him stumble. usually he wasn’t so… fleeting to be easily pushed. he had once again collapsed backwards, questioning how many times would he be pushed today.
his eyes flickered with irritation. human. he couldn’t even speak. ❝ i am sorry… are you okay? ❞ it was the voice that hit him. not the pitch. it was not the tone. but it was the shape of it. of how it curved around the question. of the way it cared… nearly the same words. his golden gaze slowly lift from the ground. then he saw the figure. you. the world somehow tilted in its axis. not some gentle gradual slide. it was a violent one. like the rug beneath him had been yanked him sideways. leaving him in between the terrible and the impossible. all he can do to answer your question was how his breath only hitched. while he took in the sight of an unfamiliar yet familiar person. it felt like the world had stopped.
it was the furrow of the brows. the faint lines like a ghost of old worries. the tiredness beneath those eyes. bags that spoke of too many burdens carried, too many late nights… the strain across their shoulders, as if the weight of the world had settled there and never left. yet it was that meek smile that was targeted towards him. it was them. it had to be them. standing here in between the tents that whispered of true horrors that would make any ordinary human frozen in fear. you were looking at him with the same expression that mirrored that day. the taste of a bitter brigadeiro, it was a ghost, a phantom linger upon his taste buds. his breath was caught. his chest seized. and he was unable to truly respond. even when you had reiterated your question. but your voice felt so far away now. like the sound of the dum of his heart beat was all he can hear. his hands, his claws, covered in gloves hung useless at his sides. he felt like he was seeing a ghost.
he opened his mouth. ready to rasp something. but he stopped. the rule. but he gulped. he could not utter a word. not now. not yet. ❛ this is not possible… no… this is not…. ❜ the rational part of him whispered. but the rational part had grown very small and very quiet over the century…. that it was easy to ignore. because what he saw was not a strange. what he saw was them. ██████… no… they never liked it when people called them that… his treasure. every little quirk, every little thing he remembered in his fuzzy memory… this had to be them. his hands couldn’t help but tremble. he could hear that you were speaking but his mind was not registering. he could not hear the words. only watch the way you spoke. it was a familiar cadence. but the rhythm of their speech was wrong. the voice was wrong… everything should be wrong. but their concern was perfect. it was right.
their eyes was different. he can see that. but the way it carried, it was the same of his beloved. it truly didn’t matter that it was different. he tried to speak. but with the eyes in the shadows. yet he tried to form words. but nothing truly came out. only a small strangled sound finally tore from his throat. a whimper. the sound of something so broken… so wounded. ❛ it’s you ❜ was all he could think. it was not a possibility. it was a fact. a truth that bypassed logic. reason. all evidence. the stranger in front of him, you… was them. returned somehow. reborn. reassembled different. like the universe had finally taken pity of him and his family. however… deep inside… he knew it was madness. that the desperate hope. he knew. the face was not right. the height was different. their hands that they always washed was not their hands. these hands were the hands of a stranger.
but his irrationality, his desperation was trying to search. the way how your shoulders were always tensed and strained. it was the same way the stranger stood the same way, the same tension. his rationality and his need for hope were at odds with one another. fighting. struggling. because how could it be possible. that this stranger was them. and the answer, that pierrot had believed in, was that this was not chance. it had to be them. it had to be. desperation was a physical sensation. he had lived already too ling without them. a century may be short. but it felt longer than that. it felt like days had blurred into centuries than decades. he had slowly pushed himself up with ease. the way this stranger was looking at him now was enough. it was just enough. he was drinking in the image of this stranger. you. he stared. matching. reinterpreting. maybe in his dream, it was telling him something maybe their soul had chosen a different body this time. but in the end of the day, the soul was the same. his beloved could change. he had changed. his family had changed.
❝ i… i have to go… my friend is waiting for me ❞ you finally spoke. feeling uncomfortable under his gaze. wondering if he was scrutinising you. ❛ don’t go ❜ he thought. as the words were screaming. screeching for himself to stop. ❛ please don’t go. it has been so lonely. it has been so cold… i have been so cold for so long. i can’t do it after see you. please stay. please let me look at you always… let me follow you. let me finally protect you. please let me ❜ as he watched you smiled, giving him a nod. his gaze watched you walk away… walk to the direction of the red tent. ❛ yes. meu tesouro is visiting my tent ❜ the obsession seem to rooted in the foundation of the tall pierrot. but it was just a seedling. and now the sun, the rain had finally came. it had grown voraciously. he needed you. he smiled. giving you a wave. his smile was a mixture of so much. small. shattered. broken. desperate. and unbearably hopeful. even when his rational mind was uttering how it was not them. he chose not to listen.
❛ i found you ❜
you had managed to stray away from that red clad clown? he was wearing jester hat. you were confused as you had temporarily separated from your friend. after they had announced they were going to the red tent. which was quite traitorous due to you were still recovering after the pink tent. before your friend had ran to the toilet. but you kept an eye on the toilet. almost like you were watching. making sure. waiting outside the red tent that was preparing itself… physical acts again. perhaps your friend means well… get the bad stuff out of the way first before… going for more easier… performances. you could not help but sigh softly. waiting.
Historia: Kitacha no tiene memoriad de su infancia o mas, fue encontrada en un bosque abandonado del mapa donde fue criada en un laboratorio junto con varios examenes y experimentos, se escapo a los 1000 años de alli creciendo junto con ella un odio hacia los humanos creyendo que todos eran iguales de avariciosos y egoistas, por ahora en la actualidad esta suelta en las ciudades por la noche donde pasa su vida a escondidas, aun tiene ligeras eperanzas de encontrar al ser vivo que pueda cuidarla o ella cuidarlos a ellos.
A pesar de su mala actitud y agresividad su aura es totalmente positiva y quien logre tener una relacion cercana a ella se le asegurara una vida llena de proteccion y salud.
Es poco lo que tengo pero espero que sea suficiente XD
Este reto le pretenece a @qquem!
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