exnatura-archive ;   "Just leave me alone."

Send me a sentence for my muse's reaction.

_{Continuation of this.}

         _{Running was hard. It was difficult, the movement of legs and the need to breathe steadily, the fact that without stamina running would get you nowhere. But so many people ran, not always physically, but everyone has run from things, towards things, away from things, for things. To run was simply a part of life, an undeniable thing that could never be avoided, never be denied.}

                           _{And running after Aerith had been hard.}

         _{The forest whispered. All around it whispered and taunted and murmured and damned and laughed and was horrible. Utterly horrible, as it called to her from all sides, begged and whined for her to come closer or to get further, tortured her with reminders of things that were buried deep in her head, yet were not buried deep enough as they were led out from the abyss of memories and broken thoughts and abandoned things, dragged to the forefront of her mind. Everywhere the forest whispered in its darkness and shadows and death and made her grow more and more weary, more and more afraid.}

                                             _{And still she ran.}

                                                      _{Away from the fear and—}

                                                               _{Towards Aerith.}

         _{Ha. What a noble sentiment, what a false cover for the truth—that she was running for the woman who had tried her best to protect her bodily, to save her from looking death in the eyes, when death had not been there. No, she knew that she was not running for the woman who had expressed such absolute kindness to her, but she was running for the fear that pulsed through her veins and she was running from the memories that were playing across her vision, taunting her, running from the smell of flowers and blood and the feeling of static and electricity dancing across her skin.}

                  _{Away from white walls and a cage with a doll in it that looked just like her. That was what she ran from, and she did not run towards Aerith. No, that was mere coincidence, the fact that within her mania she had tripped and stumbled and fallen into a small clearing and skidded and cringe as she felt her arms get cut, only to look up and find the woman there. Sitting there, eyes wide and staring at nothingness, drenched in absolute fear that Naminé knew was reflected in her own eyes.}

                                                               _{Truly they were in hell.}

         _{Pushing herself up with that little strength she had the blonde stumbled towards the woman who was sitting against the base of a tree and she sunk down beside her, the bark scarping at her skin as she leaned her head back against the tree and stared up at the black and purple and grey sky above them, unsure if she was truly seeing it or if it were an allusion. Maybe the Aerith that sat beside her was nothing more than an illusion, a figment of her imagination created to soothe her mind and make it all the easier for her to sink further into her madness.}

         _{Still she slowly leaned against the woman, and she felt solid enough, although she cringed at the weight with a movement so jerky and sudden that for a manic moment Naminé thought she were a marionette on a string who had just been tugged. Perhaps they were both mere puppets in this sick and twisted game, neither of them could possibly know.}

_{”Just leave me alone.”}

         _{Breathing softly the Nobody straightened again and pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on them, ignoring the way that her fingers trembled uncontrollably and the way that the silence around them was absolute. The air seemed to press down on them and made it harder and harder to breathe and not too far away the blonde could hear the creaking of branches and the sound of footfalls and she was sure that it was another illusion. Had to be.}

                           _{Maybe she was an illusion.}

                  _{”I’m sorry,” was what she choked out, voice bordering on mania.}

                                    _{”I’m sorry that I can’t do a thing.}

                                             _{I’m sorry that we’re stuck here.}

                                                      _{I’m sorry that I can’t get you home—to Cloud.”}

         _{Laughter bubbled up in her throat and her shoulders trembled and she wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was real or not, if the ground beneath them was solid or if they were floating, if she was real and present, or if what was happening was truly happening—or was it just a figment of her imagination? Perhaps the clearing did not exist, perhaps she was just wandering the forest still, perhaps she was sinking further and further and further into insanity and it was so funny and she just couldn’t stop—}

         _{A shaking hand on her shoulder made her laughter stop, but it still echoed through the trees as tears welled up in her eyes again and she shook harder, and the hand on her shoulder shook so hard she was afraid that its bones would fall apart, that it would fall apart, the skin and the muscles and the veins, and leave a bloody mess on her shoulder. What a horrid thing that would be.}

                                                                                          _{And she laughed again.}