iron tang, uncanniness, betrayal, celestial bodies, and mortality.
wordcount: 2.1k. this is twice as much as i thought i would write.
olig oneshot, veronicas pov
And then I'll be nothing forever
And all of my memories
And all of the things I have seen
Will be gone, with my eyes, with my body, with me.
The moonlight is dimmed through a light sheet of clouds. Freezing fog blankets the earth, and the farthest thing I can see is the streetlights illuminating the road. Darkness encroaches every part of the cemetery, and I can't see past the third row of marked graves ahead of me. Thanks to all of the weather conditions, we're barely visible from afar.
It's a perfect night for getting away with a horrible, horrible prank. Karma must be on our side.
My fingers are trembling. I can't tell if it's from the cold eating me up for standing here, barely dressed for more than half an hour, or if it's from the shock of firing a gun for the first time. I'm still processing the way it juddered in my grip, and how deafeningly loud it was.
I (stupidly, stupidly, stupidly) utter and cry in disbelief "Is that blood?"
Ram fell onto his side, laying in the grass few feet just from where I'm standing. The ich luger bullet put a neat little bloody hole on his ribs. I stood still, as still as Ram, shakily breathing. Something wasn't right. Maybe it was just how something in the air completely changed as we fired our guns. One moment before, I was trying to conceal a loaded gun, amusement, and second-hand embarrassment as Kurt and Ram were being, well, Kurt and Ram. Completely unhinged idiots.
And then we shot on three, and any feeling of humor and mischief in me keeled over and died.
Panic rippled through the air. Kurt wore a face of pure horror (A familiar face) before he set off, sprinting in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him. I didn't feel as satisfied as I thought I would. I'm not sure why, maybe I thought his reaction would've been funnier. Maybe this prank was funnier in theory.
Kurt wasn't smart. He wasn't much of a thinker. Especially considering how he asked no questions about going to a cemetery in the middle of the night and stripping for a girl he's endlessly harassed and belittled. But as he sprinted off into the shadows, I realize he's probably thinking a lot about his mortality.
A strong iron tang hits my nostrils. My hands are slack at my sides, gripping the gun. My knees buckle and hit the earth, and something sticky pooling from Ram's corpse. I toss the gun down to check Ram, calling his name frantically and setting my shaky palms on his sides.
"Ram, you're just unconscious, right?"
Of course he's unconscious, he can't respond.
No.
the smell wasn’t chemical enough. Not like the descriptions of anesthetics I've read about in stories. Not like the unnaturally sweet fumes of chloroform. I wonder if it's centuries of evolution that caused us to tell apart natural things apart from unnatural ones. It smelled like how my mouth tasted when I lost my tooth as a kid after tripping and slamming my head on furniture.
Nononono.
The liquid pools red in the moonlight. My hands desperately try to shake him awake. The smell is sickening, the type of smell that engulfs me in the shower when I'm stressed, and distraught, and horrible, and need a way to feel. . . just a way to feel anything else.
Nononononono.
I find with every second that Ram resembles less of a human and more of something that once was. I futilely try to shake him awake, again and again and again like he'll suddenly start gasping for air if I try enough times. With every shake I find myself heaving in and out, quicker and quicker. My chest growing tenser and tenser. The way the core of a star gets denser and denser until it collapses and explodes everywhere.
Why? I was fine the last time I saw one of my dead classmates.
I even laughed! ˎˊ˗
Hahahahahahahahahnonononononononononono
Why? This has to be an accident. Maybe I'm just mistaking him or being dead and the Nazis somehow managed to put fake blood in their bullets. How would they even do that? Maybe he put in the wrong bullets. I watched him put in the bullets. Maybe he accidentally mixed up which bullets were ich luge and which bullets weren't. The way he mixed up Heather Chandlers drink?
You can’t be dead. Heather Chandler is dead so you can’t be. He wouldn't betray me. He wouldn't betray me because he's good to me.
Everyone betrays me. Even myself. I betray myself the way I betrayed my only friend. I betray myself the way my body does. I betray myself the way I betray my body. I betray myself the way I willfully and blindly follow him. I betray myself believing there's good in all of us.
A sob breaks from my throat as my hands turn over the body. I discover a second wound, horribly more nightmarish and grotesque compared to the first. The skin is torn, the gash jagged and asymmetrical. And there's blood. Everywhere. It spews and spurts like a miniature red fountain. All over his back, all over my knees, my palms. Bright red. Bright red blood. I pull my hands back and sob, mouth agape.
There was no tranquilizer. (No, there has to be.) There's nothing fake or chemical or manmade about this. (This cant be happening) It's natural.
Biological.
In biology we learned that blood contained hemoglobin, which contained iron. Iron can only be naturally created through being forged in the core of stars. Interesting how we’re all made up of the same very thing produced by celestial bodies millions of times larger than us. That stardust runs through our veins. It's our life essence.
Mom told me how long ago, they worshipped idols before they worshipped God. She told me the story of a young intelligent boy who decided there was greater beings worthy of his praise than a simple stone idol. So, first he worshipped the stars, and then the moon, and then the sun.
I think of the sun, far away. I want to join it. I want to be anywhere but here.
But neither the stars, the moon, or the sun were god, the boy found out.
We’re on the same playing field as the sun, and the stars, the night, and everything horrifying and wonderous. As everything we love and everything we've ever feared. We’ll all be gone one day. Everything eventually disappears. Whether we go out quietly or with a huge bang. Everything we ever did and everything we tried to do will be forgotten. We’ll be a disregarded stain upon the history of the universe.
The way things are heading, I don't think JD is planning on any of us going out quietly.
JD. I hear him in the distance, near the exit. He responds to Kurt's panicked yells by reciting a mantra with a voice that's too off-putting, something akin to hearing a human voice come from a machine. He repeats the words he's said to me before like a broken tape. Cool and automated. Uncanny. Like he himself was unnatural as well. Maybe he was, considering how much he's turned around in the school in just a short amount of time. In a small town where nothing ever changed before. Where everyone was born to grow into the same molds, get fucked, and die. That’s the natural order of Sherwood, Ohio.
His voice breaks through the tense silence of the night, clear and devoid of any humanity.
No. No there's something good in you you're a good person I love you you're a good person how can you dehumanize yourself like this why would you strip yourself of anything familiar and warm why did you turn into something so cold and inhumane. More unforgiving and more harsh than the iciest, barest climates. Deep down there's good in you I know there is I found that person in you and I kept it close to me like a treasure. oh. God. no. please. God.
Don't mistake something as impermanent as ourselves as god. we're not god, we're not god. we're not special. we're not even as great as the moon or the stars or any asteroid there is no meaning in this there is no great revolution there's nothing that matters but the sins i committed and the blood on my hands and the mourning families we've robbed.
The corpse spurts and spurts more blood.
Stardust rapidly coursed through my heart. Thmp.
Thmp Louder and louder in my ears. I don't know if-
Thmp. The world is going quieter or if my heart is-
Thmp. Too loud. I shake my head. I shake my head-
Thmp. This can't be happening. This can't be happening
Thmp. I thoughtyouweregoodIthoughtitwasanaccident
Thmp. Pleasepleasethisisn'thappeningI'mnothereIlove
youthmpandthmpIthmphavethmpnobodythmpelsethmpthmpthmp-
-BANG ˎˊ˗
I thought I got shot the way my heart was beating out of my chest. My head snaps up, I jerk away from the corpse, I scramble up, and push myself off the ground. I flee, forgetting about my own gun. The obscured moon provides barely enough visibility to see a few meters ahead of me. I flock towards the streetlights on the opposite end of the cemetery like a lost and panicked moth. My only source of light. My only escape. The cemetery is small, and I end up taking the same path as Kurt and JD. The only one leading to the exit. When I get to them, JD is examining the fresh corpse with a awful look on his face. The corpse even looks worse than the previous one, the bullet having ripped through its neck. The spinal cord was practically severed. The blood left a streak on the gravel. The blood was leaking all over the corpse. (When did they stop being my classmates and start being casualties?) The blood was glistening in the moonlight. The blood spatter dripped down the metal spires of the fence. The blood was damp on my hands. The blood was staining my clothes. The blood was anywhere except on the man who shot them both in cold blood.
"What the fuck have you done?" I sobbed.
. . .
The whole world stilled as if it waited for an answer. Nothing moved except for the thumping of my heart for a tense, long pause.
. . .
"I worship you."
I inch away from the corpse, noticing JD panting behind me with a unique look of glee in his eyes. With just a glimpse of his face, he stirs unease and apprehension in my gut. I back off from him, away from the gate, away from the corpse (ironic how I'm so appalled at seeing a corpse in a cemetery) and the stench of iron. There is nowhere to go. There's only the dark cemetery, the gate, the corpse, and the man who stands in between it all.
"What?" I mouth. My words turn into a quiet whimper. I wipe my wrist across my mouth with wide eyes. My hands are still trembling. I notice that they're lined with sweat and blood and his isn't. I lay my palm against my chest, and through a thin layer of cotton I feel my heart continuously pounding. Faster, faster, and louder. I hear it in my ears, and it obfuscates his speech. He slithers closer and closer, and I can't step away because my body betrays me. I can't move. I can't breath in for more than a second. I can't think or see straight. I can't do anything, I can't do anything, The air escapes from my ribs.
JD snakes his arm around it. He wraps the other around my neck. I'm constricted. Any attempts I have of worming out of his grasp is futile.
Just for a moment, I consider if I was in less danger in the cow pasture with Kurt and Ram.
His breath and body is warm on me against the cold night, but it lacks any reprieve or solace. Anything tender and familiar and human I found in him has been entirely removed. He's unnatural. I can't believe I thought he let me in. I can't believe he'd lie to me. I can't believe he would betray me. I can't, I can't, I can't do anything but reaffirm his psychotic view of the world.
"Our love is god."
-
And in an ironic twist, you and the jocks have swapped places. You haven't torn down their throne, but only filled it's empty seat. Remember which one of you walks away from this forgetting about your mortality. Everything eventually gets destructed, no matter how almighty or godly it may seem. I thought you of all people would know this.
And I am the idiot with the painted face
In the corner, taking up space.
🌸 her parents make her dress modestly. they make her stay away from revealing or tight clothes. A lot of her clothes are loose or meant to be worn under loose clothing. (but not too baggy)
🌸 she wears the scarf because her mother used to make her go to school with it and she's just been doing it ever since. she's a mamas girl.
🌸she gets told a lot that the scarf makes her look like a English teacher and she can't say nothing cause her mother actually is an English teacher. (she also inspired veronicas love of reading and writing)
🌸 veronica likes treating big and loose scarves like turtle shells by retreating her head into them. (like how a turtle would retreat into its shell)
🌸 does wear a lot of her mothers scarfs which she loves because they're a bit of a comfort item to her and they're beautifully and intricately detailed :3
🌸 she gets teased/bullied for wearing the scarf in warmer months like September, especially because she lives in the Midwest
🌸 she can tank the Midwest heat pretty well + she gets cold super easily and spends most of her times indoors
(it doesn't stop the summer months of school from being hell for her though because the AC frequently experiences problems)
🌸 absolutely dresses for the cold. she gets cold easily. gloves and arm warmers and leg warmers and scarves and big coats and big hats and sometimes she'll even wrap her scarf around her head like a mask when its super cold lol
🌸 you will probably find her with a warm drink in her hands pretty often. coffee or tea. i think that she runs on coffee, but is trying not to get addicted because she knows she cant afford to be a coffee addict in her uni/college years.
🌸 she's also always just carrying something when she's out and about, whether its homework, her diary, a school project, or she's running errands.
🌸 often needs to carry a lot of things, and that's why she'll just carry everything in a bag or in her pockets because she hasn't quite mastered the art of "carrying many things at once while trying to walk without knocking into something"
🌸 she's tried to take a book bag to school but it's not fun to carry ten million textbooks in those.
🌸 wears college/university merch including their big sweaters.
city girl city girl always dreamt of moving to a big city for uni.
she also dreams of being surrounded by actually intellectual people.
🌸 takes art as an elective because she needs something to balance out her heavier and more studious classes in high school. something that lets her destress (most of the time) and something that she doesn't need to study for because she has many other subjects to study for.
🌸 her love for art is quite romantic. she loves detailed and intricate pieces, as well as just regular paintings that romanticize daily life. falls in love with every piece she spots in a museum hehe
for her birthday her parents take her to the city and she spends the day analyzing pieces in museums or exploring big libraries and visiting fancy coffee shops
🌸 she doesn't consider herself much of an artist though because she barely does art anymore
🌸 sometimes she'll have big sketches accompany her diary entries though, especially if its an event she wants to seal in her memory.
🌸 settles for "boring" or plain clothes that don't make her stand out because she doesn't want to be judged and treated by her appearance, she wants to be judged on her brains and character.
still, she'll add little personal things into her clothes that normally go unnoticed by strangers, like embroidery, etc. hides friendship bracelets under long sleeved clothing
🌸 she has many friendship bracelets from Martha. they are worn out a little bit because most of them are made from their preteen years but she still has them kept because they are valuable to her :3
🌸gets Martha a bracelet charm every single birthday. each charm is equal to a year of friendship.
🌸 Martha and Veronica wear complimenting accessories to each others outfits !! Veronica sometimes painting her nails pink or wearing a pink hairclip and Martha doing the same with blue !!
🌸Her and Martha are really the only two extreme "nerds" among the girls in their school. kind of because they are in a small school, kind of because her and Martha aren't afraid of childish interests or nerdy things, and also kind of because her and Martha do a lot of movie nights and yap about their interests when they are hanging out.
🌸they are inseparable (obvi.) they are super close. there are no secrets. veronica has grown to be more withdrawn from everyone throughout her high school years, but she still sticks with and up for Martha. Martha is like a family friend to her despite not being related. They are like sisters :3 (which Martha loves because she only has brothers)
🌸 Can't help but always feel a bit childish for owning a diary and wearing girly friendship bracelets. She used to be really pretentious and defensive over her material belongings that served a sentimental purpose to her, but she mellowed down as she matured
🌸 No matter how good a comeback she has or how much she tries to stand up for herself to bullies, she always fucks something over. fumbling her words and repeating herself, stuttering, etc. She always loses against bullies and vows to try harder next time.
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