Miyaki Ren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nomorefeathers) wrote2013-02-25 02:11 pm
nomorefeathers) wrote2013-02-25 02:11 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Addiction
Story/Setting: Stolen Dreams 'verse
Table: Emotions & Mundane
Prompt: 051 - Jealousy
Word Count: 418
Rating: General
Summary: It was a bad idea, but she can't resist
Warnings: None
It was a bad idea from the start, going to the show, she knows that. They’d certainly told her enough times. “It’s no use dwelling on what might have been,” they said. “You need to move on,” they said. Easy for them to say, when they’d never heard the siren call of the stage, when they didn’t have to walk by posters of someone wearing their face living the best part of that life she was being told to leave behind. They don’t understand. Can’t understand. And that’s why she has to see.
Her stomach is in knots even before the curtain comes up, but she raises her opera glasses to her eyes the moment the orchestra starts because she has to see.
It would have been better she thinks, if the show had been bad. Easier to think that it was because that thing that bore her face was not as good, was somehow deficient. But it isn’t. The show is brilliant, and the top star shining just as she should.
Except she shouldn’t shine. It’s not an otokoyaku on that stage at all, just a construct of twigs and fur held together with blood and magic and given her face by fae magics. A fake. Something should give it away. But nothing does and the audience applauds and cheers for it, never realizing that the real thing is tucked away at the back of the house, leaning against the rail of the standing room section, trying not to be sick.
As the etoile sings her solo to start the final parade, the jealousy sweeps forward like the incoming tide. She wants to scream, to cry to rage about the unfairness of it all.
Instead she turns and leaves the theatre before the parade is even half over. Because she knows, she knows that if she has to see that thing come down the stairs in the feathers that should have been hers, she’ll lose every last bit of sanity she’d worked so hard to build up. It had been a mistake to come. And yet, she knows she’ll come again. And again and again, like a drug addict who realizes the drug is killing them. Because the jealousy may well kill her, or worse. It will slam through every bit of mental stability that she’s managed to build up, cracking her mind into little more than a pile of shimmering shards. Beautiful madness.
But she is addicted. Always was. Always will be.
Story/Setting: Stolen Dreams 'verse
Table: Emotions & Mundane
Prompt: 051 - Jealousy
Word Count: 418
Rating: General
Summary: It was a bad idea, but she can't resist
Warnings: None
It was a bad idea from the start, going to the show, she knows that. They’d certainly told her enough times. “It’s no use dwelling on what might have been,” they said. “You need to move on,” they said. Easy for them to say, when they’d never heard the siren call of the stage, when they didn’t have to walk by posters of someone wearing their face living the best part of that life she was being told to leave behind. They don’t understand. Can’t understand. And that’s why she has to see.
Her stomach is in knots even before the curtain comes up, but she raises her opera glasses to her eyes the moment the orchestra starts because she has to see.
It would have been better she thinks, if the show had been bad. Easier to think that it was because that thing that bore her face was not as good, was somehow deficient. But it isn’t. The show is brilliant, and the top star shining just as she should.
Except she shouldn’t shine. It’s not an otokoyaku on that stage at all, just a construct of twigs and fur held together with blood and magic and given her face by fae magics. A fake. Something should give it away. But nothing does and the audience applauds and cheers for it, never realizing that the real thing is tucked away at the back of the house, leaning against the rail of the standing room section, trying not to be sick.
As the etoile sings her solo to start the final parade, the jealousy sweeps forward like the incoming tide. She wants to scream, to cry to rage about the unfairness of it all.
Instead she turns and leaves the theatre before the parade is even half over. Because she knows, she knows that if she has to see that thing come down the stairs in the feathers that should have been hers, she’ll lose every last bit of sanity she’d worked so hard to build up. It had been a mistake to come. And yet, she knows she’ll come again. And again and again, like a drug addict who realizes the drug is killing them. Because the jealousy may well kill her, or worse. It will slam through every bit of mental stability that she’s managed to build up, cracking her mind into little more than a pile of shimmering shards. Beautiful madness.
But she is addicted. Always was. Always will be.