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vocab_drabblesTitle: Abekobe
Fandom: Akai Ito (Visual Novel)
Author:luminious
Rating: T
Word Count: 390
Characters/Pairings: Nozomi, Mikage
Warnings: Child abuse and suicide at the end, for anyone not comfortable with that.
Summary:
Sounds of laughter are nonexistent from either her or the few servants who are allowed to know of Nozomi's existence and attend to the most basic of needs, nor are the sightings of banquets and the welcoming of visitors.
There is only the mirror, and the room hidden like her, never allowed to be acknowledged nor one with the world.(Or, a pre-canon look into Nozomi's life as a human, forever condemned in a hidden cell during the Heian Era.)
Disclaimer: I do not own Akai Ito, nor am I or will I ever profit from this work.
THERE IS NOTHING IN WHAT little she has heard—but never seen—of the world so foreign—so obscure much like herself—that Nozomi hates more than her reflection.
The life of Nozomi of the Heian Era is scarcely one, the noble girl born first yet treated last, locked up in a hidden cell with hidden maids and hidden familial connections, the child with the same brown orbs and upturned nose as she the only one allowed to represent their clan, having no clue that she is the younger sister of not just another girl but one mere minute her elder, Nozomi’s sibling bestowed with as many blood-tinted jewels and butterfly-covered combs as the elder of the two is seldom given scraps of stale, cold bread and the leftovers of patch-covered rags.
Ryuugetsu—it is the only object she can classify as a gift, and yet even what is used by a woman to glance at her beauty is but an ironic tool that reminds her of her place, the glass showcasing a sickly girl with weary eyes and shivering, chapped lips above a chin and neck full of as much dirt as the spider-webbed corners of the room she’s spent her whole concealed existence within.
White. Black. Red. White. Black. Red.
The variety of colors in her life is as narrow as the clavicle that sticks out of her, only the golden emblem of her speculum the only digression from the silver of locks and chains that trap her and the red lines and splatter on the walls from her failed attempts to enter the world that in a better timeline would’ve been accessible to her.
Sounds of laughter are nonexistent from either her or the few servants who are allowed to know of Nozomi’s existence and attend to the most basic of needs, nor are the sightings of banquets and the welcoming of visitors.
There is only the mirror and the room hidden like her, never allowed to be acknowledged nor one with the world.
(When Nozomi finally sees the greens of grass and browns of tree barks alongside the many colors of many flowers, she is amazed, and allows the scenery to be her last image as she slits her wrists before the servants can take her to a new box to continue a life those around her seldom knows exists.)
Fandom: Akai Ito (Visual Novel)
Author:
luminiousRating: T
Word Count: 390
Characters/Pairings: Nozomi, Mikage
Warnings: Child abuse and suicide at the end, for anyone not comfortable with that.
Summary:
Sounds of laughter are nonexistent from either her or the few servants who are allowed to know of Nozomi's existence and attend to the most basic of needs, nor are the sightings of banquets and the welcoming of visitors.
There is only the mirror, and the room hidden like her, never allowed to be acknowledged nor one with the world.
Disclaimer: I do not own Akai Ito, nor am I or will I ever profit from this work.
THERE IS NOTHING IN WHAT little she has heard—but never seen—of the world so foreign—so obscure much like herself—that Nozomi hates more than her reflection.
The life of Nozomi of the Heian Era is scarcely one, the noble girl born first yet treated last, locked up in a hidden cell with hidden maids and hidden familial connections, the child with the same brown orbs and upturned nose as she the only one allowed to represent their clan, having no clue that she is the younger sister of not just another girl but one mere minute her elder, Nozomi’s sibling bestowed with as many blood-tinted jewels and butterfly-covered combs as the elder of the two is seldom given scraps of stale, cold bread and the leftovers of patch-covered rags.
Ryuugetsu—it is the only object she can classify as a gift, and yet even what is used by a woman to glance at her beauty is but an ironic tool that reminds her of her place, the glass showcasing a sickly girl with weary eyes and shivering, chapped lips above a chin and neck full of as much dirt as the spider-webbed corners of the room she’s spent her whole concealed existence within.
White. Black. Red. White. Black. Red.
The variety of colors in her life is as narrow as the clavicle that sticks out of her, only the golden emblem of her speculum the only digression from the silver of locks and chains that trap her and the red lines and splatter on the walls from her failed attempts to enter the world that in a better timeline would’ve been accessible to her.
Sounds of laughter are nonexistent from either her or the few servants who are allowed to know of Nozomi’s existence and attend to the most basic of needs, nor are the sightings of banquets and the welcoming of visitors.
There is only the mirror and the room hidden like her, never allowed to be acknowledged nor one with the world.
(When Nozomi finally sees the greens of grass and browns of tree barks alongside the many colors of many flowers, she is amazed, and allows the scenery to be her last image as she slits her wrists before the servants can take her to a new box to continue a life those around her seldom knows exists.)
[FIN.]
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