Forgive Me

Akasha is having tea with a noblewoman in Zapolyarny Palace, where she was invited under the pretense of Ajax’s ascension ceremony with Ajax’s parents. . (Truly, the Tsaritsa asked Pulcinella to bring the mystery called “Belizna” to her.)

One day during the visit, Pulcinella reports to Belizna that a noble woman has asked to meet the newest Harbinger’s ‘aunt’, and brings her to a private reception room. The noblewoman appears swiftly

along with Ajax’s parents, to Zapolyarny Palace under the pretense of Ajax’s ascension ceremony. Akasha has joined Ajax’s parents on their trip Zapolyarny Palace along with Ajax’s parents for his ascension ceremony.

The room suddenly slants.

Terror sets her skin to tingling as dread pools in her gut.

Akasha pushes past it. She has to.

“Excuse me,” she murmurs, pushing to her feet.

The noblewoman freezes. Not in fear or shock but like a puppet without—

The room has two doors; one on either side of the tea table.

Akasha takes a careful step towards one of them—she wobbles—catches herself on the chair.

It’s fifteen steps.

A hot tear burns down her cheek.

Fourteen steps and she can disappear and wait this out.

Thirteen steps; “I can still protect you.”

She says that outloud.

Twelve steps; another tear.

Eleven steps; the room feels upside down as she fumbles her handkerchief from her pocket.

She could’ve kept her napkin.

Ten steps; Akasha knocks herself in the nose and then bites one of her fingers but her jaw closes around her handkerchief and she clenched her teeth tight.

Nine steps; the other door clicks.

Ever so gently, Pulcinella says, “Belizna, we just want to help.”

Akasharuns.

Grey fills her vision, narrowing until it’s just the door.

“It’s okay.” Two arms hold her close.

NO

She stomps where a foot may be; the floor rises up.

Forgive me!

She lands gently.

“It’s okay, I promise.”

Akashareaches, digs her fingernails into an arm and pushes.

“You won’t remember any of this, it’s okay.”

She grabs the carpet—it slides towards her.

She gives up on blood, scratches behind her—feels hair—grabs and twistsandshoves—

She moved forward!

She pushes herself up from the carpet and shoves harder against the hair—

She moves forward!

A chill sweeps through the room. But she can’t think of that, she can only think of Kaeya.

Akasha forces her toes down, pushing her heel up and into something heavy; she kicks with her other foot—

“My Devoted.”

The weight vanishes—

Akasha flies forward—

There’s ice where the door should be.

She presses her hands against it.

There’s no door, only ice.

nononoNoNONONO

She screams in her throat and hits it and beats it and it’s so cold against her cheek as she slides to the floor.

I’m so sorry.

Grief drag its claws through her insides; her head bows and rests upon her knees.

I failed you.

Prototypes of my Commedia Dell’arte magical girls I did for a school project

its always snowy in snezhnaya