idolpro | Shrike's Heart (#4)

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!heart games

Shrike's Heart (#4)

The woman before you is beautiful—fair of features, with lovely golden skin and luxurious long black hair, petite. You have the immediate and distinct impression that she's just let go of your hand, and she steps back, and smiles.

It's not quite a happy smile.

"I'm sorry," she says. "There's just nothing I can do, as things are. But the way is there; it just needs to be lit."

You open your mouth—maybe to say something, or to express confusion—but you have to cough, and taste something metallic, spattering black blood onto the ground in front of you. Then you realize—blood seeps from opening wounds in your arms, your chest, your stomach, your face. It rims your eyes and trails from your nose and you feel like you're dissolving—

—and you fall through the ground like it's the surface of a lake, and go down, down, down.

> Wake Up

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Oh, she's—gone?

I was trying to keep her out of here, but... I don't really keep most personal things in the house...

Uh...

Sorry about... the way I threw her out. I didn't know she was going to disappear.

—Are you okay?

It's all right, sir. She's never gone forever. She's supposed to be here more than I am, anyway.

She is?

Are you, um... part of Shrike's family, too?

[ she... glances, uncomfortably, at the painting that Persephone brought with him from the kitchen. she looks just like a younger version of the woman in it.

but then she appears to remember something. ]

Oh! I left something on the stove—can I get all of you something to eat, if it hasn't burned, or some tea...?

It's nothing special, but—before you go. Because you're looking for her, right?

[He looks where his eyes are pointing and sees the portrait for the first time. He can't quite make out the face, but the body looks like a more tan version of Shrike. Could it be Shrike?

...Is this girl Baby Shrike?

He turns his head back and forth, considering it. Her appearance sure has changed a lot, but he can sssssort of see it?

He turns back to the girl, though.]

Some food or drink would be lovely, thank you.

Just curiosity, who do you suppose we're looking for?

[ the mannerisms are certainly similar enough between them. she scuttles off to the kitchen, to check on what's on the stove; she's already tall enough tat she doesn't have to stand on her tiptoes at all. ]

Um, I'll put the kettle on, too, then... I hope this is all right, I don't think it's overdone...

Well, you were saying a different name, but... you're looking for Sorrowful Blade of the Softly-Falling Rain, aren't you?

[Wow. What a name!]

Is that the person whose room that is? If so, then yes.

Do you know where she is?

...Also, do you need any help with anything?

Oh, I mean—you're guests, I shouldn't ask you to help, especially when you've been keeping things tidy already...

[ she turns the modern burners off, and fishes out some potholders for while she drains the pot of noodles.

of course it's noodles. ]

...though, if you really want to, er... if you wouldn't mind filling up the kettle, maybe.

[not answering questions about Shrike, huh...?]

No problem.

[He gets to work filling up the kettle]

What were you doing hiding in the blankets?

...well, if I stayed still and quiet, maybe this all wouldn't be noticed?

I'm good at that, but maybe not good enough.

And... I think it'll be time, soon. If you want to see her.

I would.

[puts the kettle on]

If you don't mind me asking, what do you think would make you happy?

[ she looks confused, even as she starts separating noodles out between a few plates. ]

...me?

That doesn't really matter.

Why not?

[ she finishes plating the translucent glass noodles, and heaps them with a sauce with vegetables in it, before turning around to present it to him with a pair of chopsticks in it, sticking straight up. ]

I don't exist anymore. I'm just bits and pieces of memory.

Oh, um... hi.

That painting’s really... this room’s fine without it.

Ah, hello...

I just, ah, did not want it to be lost behind the....

It’s okay. Some things that are broken can’t really be fixed, no matter how much you want it.

[a brief, bitter little smile] They, ah, never go back together the same...

...no, they don't. Some things are just gone, when they're gone, and some stains can't be washed out.

...all we can, ah, do is make the most with what there is. Even, ah, if...

[ she gives a half smile. ]

Even if we’re really just leftovers?

...you know how it is.

Even, if, ah, so.

...I, ah, do, yes.

...what part of yourself did you leave behind?

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