i am dust and shadow; any

[Joscelin]

joscelin

She is the broken girl. She knows what it’s like to shatter, to break into a hundred pieces, and then be put back together. She had died and been resurrected, pieced back together by a careless magician. That he had put her back together at all is a wonder. But she does not care. At the moment, she cares only what it is like to be broken.

She can smell something burning on the wind. At first she does not care, wrapped in her own misery and anger as she is. But it draws her, like a mysterious calling card left on the dining room table. She approaches, that broken girl. She had always been so bright. Falling apart had not caused her brightness to fade. Rather, it had made it unbearable, uncontrollable. Her whole body is cracked, weakened. What she had once held so easily in check now wants so badly to escape. She knows she cannot let it. She could kill them all. And even in her miserable state, she knows she does not wish to kill everyone. But that brightness wants out. It seeps through the cracks, sparking and blinking before being ruthlessly snuffed out.

This is how she can be seen as she nears. Not a single portion of her small red and white body is untouched. Cracks snake from the tips of her ears to the tips of her hooves. The light sparks and fights to escape, running along those lines. Those cracks that reach all the way down to the very fabric of her being.

Her golden eyes alight on the stick thin figure. Her normal curiosity is dampened. Now, she can summon only a mild interest. He looks odd, consumed by something. Would she run screaming if she knew he had killed someone? She was naïve. She was a child. But no longer. She is the broken girl. He could not possibly hurt her more than has already been done. No, she would not be afraid, would not flee, would not scream.

But she does not know. Instead, she speaks to him, her voice as broken as the rest of her.

You look awful.

there's a song in your lung and a dream in your eye

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