Cerva’s eyes narrow against the brightness of the room. She had been bold to venture through the open doorway; she didn’t even consider repercussions or what next obstacle may be lying in wait the second she entered. All she knew was that her heart was guiding her here. It seemed right. It seemed safe.
A breath catches when her nutmeg eyes adjust and see the playing of worlds on the barren walls. Images flash of scenery, of lives ending and beginning, of worlds that she never knew to exist. There are newborns gasping for their first breath and elders sighing their last. To see this, to witness the beginnings and endings of life, overwhelms Cerva. Her heart wrenches in her chest and her gaze widens to drink in every sight she can before a honeyed voice pulls her from the runnings of the world. Swerving sharply, she prepares to run. Her muscles quiver as her heart jumps to her throat, afraid of what is to come. After all that she has been through, all the pain and distress she has experienced, she can’t bring herself to so easily settle down. Quietly, she inches away from the girl whose sapphire eyes burn through her soul. Fortunately, Cerva’s fear isn’t enough to dull the sounds surrounding her; she still hears the girl and listens to her reassurances.
The kindness that emanates from her nestles across Cerva like a balm, healing her wounds as they burn and throb. ”Thank you,” she whispers into the cool air between them while the pain of her travels subsides. Her eyes watch with fascination as her open wounds close and disappear altogether. To heal her is to ease her racing pulse, but Cerva’s muscles remain coiled and ever prepared while in this strange place.
With hushed footsteps, Cerva takes a submissive place near Her in order to watch more of the reeling images. The girl continues to offer information about her predicament as well as Time’s role in it all. Hesitant, Cerva bites her lip and heavily sighs. ”I can only imagine what it’s like to never see someone you love,” why else would he want to rescue her unless he felt otherwise? There’s a purpose, a motive, behind all that he does. It isn’t malicious, but it is perhaps selfish. Time wants Her all to himself despite the role she plays in life and in the world. Cerva turns her head to observe the beautiful girl, taking careful notice of the bubble surrounding – imprisoning – her. Again, her heart wrenches.
”What matters most,” she whispers painfully, ”is what you want. Do you want to leave, to be with Time, or do your duties keep you here? Would you be willing to throw away everything to be with Time?” Who is she to keep them apart, but then again, who is she to force them together if their feelings aren’t mutual?
”Where does your happiness lie?” She finally asks as her heart leaps. ”Time can be a beautiful or dreadful thing; there is no escaping it no matter what.” Cerva pauses to look toward the gleaming door. There is still a sense of hope outside that door, whether it’s solely for herself or for the both of them. ”Time wants you, loves you,” she can only hope his means for wanting Her aren’t malicious (but Cerva’s mind is far too illustrated with love and compassion to consider anything but), ”and I can see the despair in your eyes.” A lungful of air is drawn in as she calculates the weight of her upcoming offer as it tingles the tip of her tongue. ”I can’t leave you here; we both have someone that wants – needs – us. We will go together and I will share the burdens with you. I will help you,” her eyes glisten underneath her forelock as she feebly smiles, ”and everyone deserves happiness and love.” Those things cannot be found tethered to a room, alone.
”Now, for this little shield around you,” Cerva reaches forward to touch Her, but rather than the softness of flesh, there is first a wave of heat followed by a zap of electricity. Stumbling back with wide eyes she half expects an explanation, but She only shrugs. This is both her protection and her prison; of course, it wouldn’t be easy.
Tendrils of poison ivy sprout and weave, intertwining around Her like an egg. ”Maybe enough pressure will shatter it,” the vines tighten like the grip of an anaconda, layering across each other and weaving more and more thoroughly. ”Almost,” Cerva grunts with exertion until there is a crack. What begins as a sense of hope quickly dives into foreboding. There is a sonic boom that’s almost deafening as though an alarm has been sounded. Afraid, Cerva continues to thread her poison ivy in hopes to further crack and release Her, but the images begin to flash faster and the walls begin to crumble. ”The room is falling apart,” she finds herself still whispering as pieces of the ceiling crash down around her. Through a small gap in her poison ivy she can see Her staring back with her sorrowful blue eyes.
Then there’s a blinding white light.
The poison ivy is scalded. It shrivels as it’s scorched by a raging fire. Cerva immediately unlatches herself from her woven magic and watches her work melt away in the face of the inferno, but it all hasn’t been in vain. There, as the flames settle, is the porcelain girl standing with a smile on her face. ”Thank you,” the girl’s voice is serene as her eyes dance along the tumbling walls and Cerva’s frightened expression. ”Let’s go!” Cerva takes to Her side and the girl quickly hoists herself onto Cerva’s back. With coiled muscles, Cerva lurches forward and runs toward the door. A large fragment of the ceiling crashes down in front of them, but she veers sharply to the side and dodges around it.
All she can hear is the roar of the alarm and the destruction of the room.
But then She speaks as they reach the closed doorway. ”I need to open it,” She doesn’t need to shout to be heard. Despite the chaos ensuing around them, the girl slides off casually and jiggles the doorknob. All Cerva can see through the exit is lush grass. ”Hop back on!” She yells fervently as another piece of the room collapses behind her, but the girl shakes her head. ”Come on! I’m helping you out of here!” And again, She shakes her head in denial. ”Thank you, Cerva,” wind thrashes through her porcelain hair, but somehow she still looks peaceful. She smiles then, and with a wave of her hand, Cerva is forced through the doorway.
Cerva’s legs buckle underneath her, but the tall grass is eager to greet her. It tickles her skin as she lies there for a long moment. When Cerva looks back over her shoulder, there is nothing there – only an empty field dotted with wildflower.
But the girl is still alive, still smiling, in her white room. Another block of the wall starts to tumble down, but she waves her hand and pauses it in midair. With a flick of her other hand, the white room restores itself and she calmly takes her seat. ”Checkmate, Time.” Another year, another of his failed - her victorious - attempts.
Cerva
1227 words