Love is a dangerous game, Bianca once told someone she - no. His ghost flickers in the corner of her awareness, a big curly-headed man in a coat like an explosion in a patchwork factory. Even now, he's attractive to her, but love?
"No," she whispers. "I never loved him. I only hated the self that did. I used him to hurt her, and they defeated me. Because love is also a strength, Rey."
In the physical world, she's gripping Rey's shoulders, bruisingly hard, as if she's the only thing holding her up.
Strength. It's funny -- love is strength. Because nothing has ever made her despair more than an act of love. And the worst part is that she can't say it's always all bad. There's her brother, who she feels something very close to love. Nick. Muscovy.
Bianca.
How can something to strong make you feel so weak?
Numb to the pain of Bianca's grip, Rey just ducks her head, her brows furrowing.
"No," she says immediately, and then-- "Yes. No and yes." Her eyes tear from Bianca to the old mirror image...
Blonde. Devoid of the visible scars on flesh and face. Her clothes, a white gown, are torn; barely hanging off her seemingly perfect skin. She is beautiful in the conventional way. Such beauty and frailty was what drew that researcher to her old self. Why he kept her incapacitated, reliant on him. That helplessness bleeds through a horrible memory.
Her stomach churns, and she looks away. "Sometimes, I can still feel his breath. Both of us c..." She bites down. Don't do this. Not anymore.
"Love, is a burning thing..." Her other, beautiful self hums as the white, torn fabric of her dress catches fire, setting flame to her skin.
Bianca hisses. Keeping someone helpless to keep them with you is a thing she understands, a thing she's done - there is a great black hole full of shameful recollection that she is keeping at arm's length right now, all Bianca's stories of her years on the barge. She has been that person.
And thinking of it in connection with Rey makes her rage blaze up, black flames adding fuel to the red.
"That's not love. That's fear. As though you were a possession someone could steal."
Contempt rings in her mind and her voice, and she looses her grip on Rey's shoulders.
"Let it burn. I don't need to possess you. Let us be phoenixes, Rey. Let us make each other brave."
In Rey's mind, fear and love are one and the same. Always have been. The closer anyone has gotten to her, the more terrified she is of what that means for them. For her, even.
Back then, she was a possession by all counts. Something that was to be destroyed for being too volatile, and they weren't wrong. She still is something of a wildcard. Possibly why her father wouldn't let her stay dead, even when she had so wished it that she oftentimes took her rage out on him over the following years.
Her head just hangs as she feels Bianca's hands where they are, eyes staring at nothing. All the while she sees through the eyes of her other self, with perfect skin and burning hair, spreading fire across a bed that's now manifested as though it's always been there. It's a destruction of a symbol that almost made her a victim of something far more shameful. Something not out of love but anger.
The blood stops flowing down her scars by the time she lifts her head to look Bianca in the eye. Arms hanging at her sides, her expression heavy, but no longer standing like something that's about to crumble to pieces. Rather, the opposite...
Bringing a couple fingers under Bianca's chin, Rey stoops to meet the other woman's lips with her own. Gentle, but resolute, her breath carrying a smell and taste of smoke and sulfur, just as the fire around them continues to burn, spread, glow in the shadows of this space.
Bianca, who would probably still burn all her own other selves if she thought she could get away with it, watches the flames rise and crackle with fierce satisfaction. She is aware, here in this virtual space, of the depth, the conflicted complexity of Rey's feelings, but her own are clear and straightforward: The only Rey that counts is this one, here and now. Her scars are no more flaws than a tree's rings are.
"Burn everything that doesn't make you strong or give you joy, my love."
And then their lips meet, and she arches her back, so that her body presses against Rey's heat. The tang of sulphur shivers her to the nerve-endings, and her eyes blaze in the reflected fire.
Though she can't say one way or another whether it made her strong, pain has been a source of guidance for Rey. Helped her crawl through trials and fight through tribulations. In the end, she's realized one thing.
"Burning is what I do," Rey murmurs, barely pulling back from Bianca's lips, her eyes still closed. "What I'm best at."
On the back of her lids, she watches in her mind the charred remains of flesh and bones, lying amid that fire that renders the mattress to ash and rust.
The flames rage, consuming all. She hears screaming, but they don't belong to her own this time. Not herself or her 'self' standing close, now bald and gazing empty at the black and red fire.
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"No," she whispers. "I never loved him. I only hated the self that did. I used him to hurt her, and they defeated me. Because love is also a strength, Rey."
In the physical world, she's gripping Rey's shoulders, bruisingly hard, as if she's the only thing holding her up.
"Is that one of you, my darling?"
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Bianca.
How can something to strong make you feel so weak?
Numb to the pain of Bianca's grip, Rey just ducks her head, her brows furrowing.
"No," she says immediately, and then-- "Yes. No and yes." Her eyes tear from Bianca to the old mirror image...
Blonde. Devoid of the visible scars on flesh and face. Her clothes, a white gown, are torn; barely hanging off her seemingly perfect skin. She is beautiful in the conventional way. Such beauty and frailty was what drew that researcher to her old self. Why he kept her incapacitated, reliant on him. That helplessness bleeds through a horrible memory.
Her stomach churns, and she looks away. "Sometimes, I can still feel his breath. Both of us c..." She bites down. Don't do this. Not anymore.
"Love, is a burning thing..." Her other, beautiful self hums as the white, torn fabric of her dress catches fire, setting flame to her skin.
no subject
And thinking of it in connection with Rey makes her rage blaze up, black flames adding fuel to the red.
"That's not love. That's fear. As though you were a possession someone could steal."
Contempt rings in her mind and her voice, and she looses her grip on Rey's shoulders.
"Let it burn. I don't need to possess you. Let us be phoenixes, Rey. Let us make each other brave."
no subject
Back then, she was a possession by all counts. Something that was to be destroyed for being too volatile, and they weren't wrong. She still is something of a wildcard. Possibly why her father wouldn't let her stay dead, even when she had so wished it that she oftentimes took her rage out on him over the following years.
Her head just hangs as she feels Bianca's hands where they are, eyes staring at nothing. All the while she sees through the eyes of her other self, with perfect skin and burning hair, spreading fire across a bed that's now manifested as though it's always been there. It's a destruction of a symbol that almost made her a victim of something far more shameful. Something not out of love but anger.
The blood stops flowing down her scars by the time she lifts her head to look Bianca in the eye. Arms hanging at her sides, her expression heavy, but no longer standing like something that's about to crumble to pieces. Rather, the opposite...
Bringing a couple fingers under Bianca's chin, Rey stoops to meet the other woman's lips with her own. Gentle, but resolute, her breath carrying a smell and taste of smoke and sulfur, just as the fire around them continues to burn, spread, glow in the shadows of this space.
Her other self continues to hum.
And it burns, burns, burns...
no subject
"Burn everything that doesn't make you strong or give you joy, my love."
And then their lips meet, and she arches her back, so that her body presses against Rey's heat. The tang of sulphur shivers her to the nerve-endings, and her eyes blaze in the reflected fire.
no subject
"Burning is what I do," Rey murmurs, barely pulling back from Bianca's lips, her eyes still closed. "What I'm best at."
On the back of her lids, she watches in her mind the charred remains of flesh and bones, lying amid that fire that renders the mattress to ash and rust.
The flames rage, consuming all. She hears screaming, but they don't belong to her own this time. Not herself or her 'self' standing close, now bald and gazing empty at the black and red fire.