twiststheblade | (no subject)

One alley in Old Town is much like another. High, wet walls enclosing narrow streets, empty windows staring like blind eyes, uncaring, over the events below. The odd flicker of neon reflecting mirrored off the slick surfaces, adding garish highlights. Yellow pools of sodium lights, a perhaps surprisingly large number of the streetlamps un-broken, burning brightly in the night.

This particular alley is clean of trash, dirt swept away by the rain, litter cleared away. The girls will not tolerate their territory to be filthy. Human trash, though - the alley is visited by that tonight. A pair of men - boys, really, drunk and confident, breath steaming in the cool air, have a whore backed up against a wall. One of them is whispering in her ear, hand on her shoulder keeping her still, while the other leans against a lampost, grinning, all machismo and bravado and white teeth.

The whore shakes her head, and starts to slip out of the man's grip. He snarls, and slams her back against the wall, eyes hot and wet and angry. The whore's eyes, by contrast, are almost pitying, even as he back-hands her across the face, snapping her head sideways.

This is where it all goes wrong.

There is a disturbance in the air, rain seeming to fall around a patch of space, defining it for a moment not by what is there but by what is not, until the space is filled by two bodies.

The whore's eyes widen, as she looks over the man's shoulder.

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Miho holds very still for a moment, then puts her arms around Mary Anne. Not as if seeking comfort - but as if giving it.

It's getting cold, in the room, with the wind coming in through the broken window, and she shivers.

She hugs Miho back, though almost gingerly, as if afraid of breaking her further (as if she could still be broken).

"We came to bring you home," she says.

"If you'll come with us."

"Please."

Miho looks at her for a long time. Then she looks out of the window, for far longer. Then she gets up, collects her swords, and takes a battered looking shoebox from the bottom of her wardrobe. Nothing else is important.

She's ready.

Mary Anne can take her home.

She stands up, smiling faintly.

"Okay, then. Let's go round up Goldy and we're set."

Miho looks at the door to her apartment, before heading through it. She pauses in the hallway then, instead of heading for the stairs, goes the other way, towards an insignificant-looking door marked 'roof'.

If she remembers Goldy - and she thinks she does - that's where she'd go.

When I find myself, I'm sitting on the edging wall of the rooftop. The rain is drumming monotonously on the asphalt underfoot, and I'm thoroughly soaked again.

I don't care.

redangryscars...
slicesandwealsandsomuchpain...

Though I had little control over my actions, I don't regret the damage I did down there. It wasn't a kill, but I feel better for it anyway. Washed clean of my anger. Calmer. More at peace with the whole situation, though I still hate it. Hate everything. Through the good grace of whatever ethereal powers oversee this world, I manage to get a cigarette lit in the still-torrential downpour. That helps too.

Mary Anne steps out onto the roof, but not terribly far. She's gotten used to being almost dry.

"Hey. We're going home; you coming?"

They've come to get me. It was only a matter of time.

It's time to go.

Home.

Where the heart is.

I sigh, take a final drag on the smoke and then drop the stub. It sizzles briefly in the puddle to the left of my feet. I show them a weak smile, attempting to convey that I'm okay now, and leave the roof edge behind me.

"Yes. Let's go."

Because it's time to go.

Time to let go.

There's beauty in the breakdown.