Tags: Plant horror to a degree Words: 500 Remix of luckycricket33's Chinatsu/Mako (Ballroom e Youkoso) from Round 4.
"Like you'd understand."
Chinatsu's words fell and she could feel the thorns climbing out of her mouth - vines wrapping around her tongue - iron cresting against the back of her teeth with the violent clash of bitterness.
Roses would rise to outfit her, and Chinatsu didn't care to brush it aside.
Blood came green and fresh at the gentlest pricks, and people knew not to touch - they knew not to come, when they saw her face. The music still played. She sat from afar and allowed the leaves to make their way into her ears.
Bugs still bothered her. In studios and on a stage, in massive ballrooms and dinner affairs, there would never be something so unsightly. It was a fact of her new life. Wasps and bees found their way into the cracks in her defense, and she would jolt in secret horror, only out of sight. Growing hair became a place for nests to be made. Despite how she shuddered at the feeling of legs and wings, nothing would sting her anymore - as though they knew she was nothing to fear.
Insects wouldn't tell secrets. It was a poor consolation.
She sat in sun, eyes closed to a world she could hardly see anymore. Chinatsu would not throw this away, but she took care of her thorns - they shone, without aphids or disease. Every chance to draw in another admirer, to prick and burn, was a delight. The red in her petals shone brighter at single drops of blood, and butterflies would come with the attraction.
It drew more.
"I think it's amazing."
Hair that shone like wheat. Diminutive and soft and everything she wasn't - Mako was reachable - touchable - skin so translucent, Chinatsu could have fallen through and found the girl was nothing but a mocking vision.
"Chinatsu," she said - tea reflecting flowers and sun - "How long did it take to grow it out?"
Her vines could wrap around the cup when it was too hot to touch. "Years," she said. There was an expression that went with that. Chinatsu couldn't remember it, but the thorns spoke of contempt and pride. It was well enough. "Other people cut it down too easily." She didn't have that space.
But neither did Mako.
How she could be so soft - sometimes, with her that close, Chinatsu could feel herself spreading around her, and down - heavy and untenable. Mako could stay straight-backed and calm through any torrent.
And when ladybugs would land to lose themselves among the maze, Mako would hold out a hand.
"Look!"
Never letting her face too close, lest the vines climb into her ears, her eyes, her mouth. Chinatsu could imagine it sometimes. Letting it happen - but they'd never let go, then. Not till she was just the same, with bitter juice setting through skin, enough to repel anything and everyone.
"Do you notice it much?" Mako would ask.
Chinatsu scoffed. "They're everywhere." Keeping her head down - keeping her mouth closed - feeling the sharp sting all the more, as the thorns spiraled back down to settle in her gut.
Fill: Team Grandstand, G
Words: 500
Remix of
"Like you'd understand."
Chinatsu's words fell and she could feel the thorns climbing out of her mouth - vines wrapping around her tongue - iron cresting against the back of her teeth with the violent clash of bitterness.
Roses would rise to outfit her, and Chinatsu didn't care to brush it aside.
Blood came green and fresh at the gentlest pricks, and people knew not to touch - they knew not to come, when they saw her face. The music still played. She sat from afar and allowed the leaves to make their way into her ears.
Bugs still bothered her. In studios and on a stage, in massive ballrooms and dinner affairs, there would never be something so unsightly. It was a fact of her new life. Wasps and bees found their way into the cracks in her defense, and she would jolt in secret horror, only out of sight. Growing hair became a place for nests to be made. Despite how she shuddered at the feeling of legs and wings, nothing would sting her anymore - as though they knew she was nothing to fear.
Insects wouldn't tell secrets. It was a poor consolation.
She sat in sun, eyes closed to a world she could hardly see anymore. Chinatsu would not throw this away, but she took care of her thorns - they shone, without aphids or disease. Every chance to draw in another admirer, to prick and burn, was a delight. The red in her petals shone brighter at single drops of blood, and butterflies would come with the attraction.
It drew more.
"I think it's amazing."
Hair that shone like wheat. Diminutive and soft and everything she wasn't - Mako was reachable - touchable - skin so translucent, Chinatsu could have fallen through and found the girl was nothing but a mocking vision.
"Chinatsu," she said - tea reflecting flowers and sun - "How long did it take to grow it out?"
Her vines could wrap around the cup when it was too hot to touch. "Years," she said. There was an expression that went with that. Chinatsu couldn't remember it, but the thorns spoke of contempt and pride. It was well enough. "Other people cut it down too easily." She didn't have that space.
But neither did Mako.
How she could be so soft - sometimes, with her that close, Chinatsu could feel herself spreading around her, and down - heavy and untenable. Mako could stay straight-backed and calm through any torrent.
And when ladybugs would land to lose themselves among the maze, Mako would hold out a hand.
"Look!"
Never letting her face too close, lest the vines climb into her ears, her eyes, her mouth. Chinatsu could imagine it sometimes. Letting it happen - but they'd never let go, then. Not till she was just the same, with bitter juice setting through skin, enough to repel anything and everyone.
"Do you notice it much?" Mako would ask.
Chinatsu scoffed. "They're everywhere." Keeping her head down - keeping her mouth closed - feeling the sharp sting all the more, as the thorns spiraled back down to settle in her gut.