(no subject)

[twiststheblade]

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.

Comments

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne runs a hand through her hair.

"'S bit of a shock," she murmurs.

"Seeing your...seeing you." She sinks down onto the futon, patting the space beside her. "C'mere, sweetness."

[twiststheblade]

Miho does as she is is bid. After all, she's very obedient. She pulls her t-shirt over head before she sits, though, giving Mary Anne a questioning look as her head emerges from the neckband.

[song_tra_bong]

She kisses her lightly on the cheek.

"We missed you, and...we were worried."

She hesitates before asking, "What happened to you?"

[twiststheblade]

Hasn't she realised yet, that Miho isn't going to tell her?

She gives a little sigh, and another little shrug. It still doesn't matter. After all, it's already happened. He's dead. He can't hurt her again. No-one will.

[song_tra_bong]

Well, it was worth a shot. She still has one more option.

"I can find out," she says softly.

"If you don't mind, I can look. You won't have to see it again."

[twiststheblade]

Miho raises an eyebrow at her, but doesn't move away. Mary Anne is welcome to do anything she likes. After all. No-one can hurt her, any more. There's nothing left to hurt.

[song_tra_bong]

"'M taking that as a yes, then."

She takes Miho's hand in hers and her eyes darken a shade.

(bound and beaten and blood in the corner of her mouth and a boy with a face like hersMiho's her brother and pain and pain and every

last

blow that left a scar on hertheir back she feelshears screaming until there is no voice there is no need for a voice we are a thing beyond a voice and there's just enough breath left for--

"--I love you."

She gasps, as if surfacing from beneath deep water, her grip on Miho's hand almost white-knuckled. She lets go carefully.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't here and I couldn't stop it and I am so very sorry."

She presses a kiss to Miho's damp hair; it helps hide the fact that she's crying.

[twiststheblade]

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.

[song_tra_bong]

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."

[twiststheblade]

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.

[song_tra_bong]

She stands up, smiling faintly.

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

[twiststheblade]

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.

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

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.

[song_tra_bong]

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?"

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

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.