DATE & TIME: February 14TH, 8:00PM LOCATION: Starlight Carnival TAG: @vindictagloria
“I found some more blankets, if you want one,” voice soft, offering the blanket to Marcella where she sits, seemingly on the edge of the world, the edge of the Carnival, the edge of blood and ash tinted snow, edge of the world that no longer feels real, some in between place.
She did seek the woman out, but not with ulterior motive, not with a conversation in mind, but at least company, at least the safe spot she thinks is beside her, because she still sees her with tall shoulders, remembers the big and little things coming together among the spark of rebellion, long before flames began, long before greater protests. The small reminders they’re important, childhood as important, their life as important. She looks at her still like this, woman who barricaded doors, woman who wanted flames, even as perhaps both of their bones feel heavy, even as there’s burns and ash across Emme’s skin. Even as she feels so tired. Even as she thinks if she blinks she’ll only find a white-eyed gaze.
And she wants the edge of the world right now, and one with Marcella because she can’t turn to the Carnival and its cryptids and its ashes without her heart sinking, without the haunting gazes, without the ghost stories, without looking into their eyes and knowing the tales that the cryptids are the ones without homes, no where to go. With a hoarse voice, still in ashes, still quiet, she says only to the other, “Is it bad? Am I terrible, if I don’t like to look at them,” silently asking if she’ll understand.
