Post by Annasiel on Jun 2, 2023 20:03:47 GMT
Soft snow gave way to fresh, green grass around the roots of the old oaks. Tall they stood, untouched by wind or storm, branches unyielding - silent arbiters that stood guard over a forest that was not. The air was still and chilled, though not cold. The cold here was not the sort to ache the moment it touched you. It was an insidious thing, that crept beneath your skin, that sank into your bones, that - little by little - filled you until you couldn't tell how cold you truly were.
In this forest was a girl.
At the moment, she was watching someone. An intruder. They came and went as they pleased, here, their door (in more ways than one) a simple metal thing that stood upright in the middle of a clearing. There was nothing behind the door, nor was there anything to either side. It did not seem to lead much of anywhere at all. But - being a door in more ways than one - there was something beyond it. A world of hallways and fluorescent lights, offices and paperwork. The girl had seen it once. Had been there once.
The people from the hallways hadn't been too happy about that. So now, in their comings and goings, they kept their distance, never stayed too long, never talked too much, never visited her for too many days in a row. They were cautious.
They were careful.
It was -- lonely.
There wasn't talking, where she was from. There wasn't others. Company was something she kept with herself, something she kept in silence. Twice, she'd tried to bring someone back, and twice, they'd fallen to the silence. They couldn't be. The cold ate them, the quiet broke them, the dark became them. Maybe the next. Maybe another. But - she didn't keep her hopes up.
There wouldn't be another, if they insisted on holding the door closed. On never taking her hand and leading her from where to there. So in where, twixt nowhere and there, she remained.
This man, though, this intruder, was not part of their pattern. He wasn't one they scheduled in their little pieces of time that they were so proud to track. Unconstrained, he wandered, and watchful, the girl kept her distance, a shadow in the trees, slowly approaching with a cautious, curious air. There was something different about this one. There was something - beyond here, too. He was as much a door as the metal thing that lingered in the grove.
"You're not supposed to be here, you know," Charity chastised. She was above him, now, hanging upside down from a tree branch. She smiled. "Do the whitecoats know you're here?"
In this forest was a girl.
At the moment, she was watching someone. An intruder. They came and went as they pleased, here, their door (in more ways than one) a simple metal thing that stood upright in the middle of a clearing. There was nothing behind the door, nor was there anything to either side. It did not seem to lead much of anywhere at all. But - being a door in more ways than one - there was something beyond it. A world of hallways and fluorescent lights, offices and paperwork. The girl had seen it once. Had been there once.
The people from the hallways hadn't been too happy about that. So now, in their comings and goings, they kept their distance, never stayed too long, never talked too much, never visited her for too many days in a row. They were cautious.
They were careful.
It was -- lonely.
There wasn't talking, where she was from. There wasn't others. Company was something she kept with herself, something she kept in silence. Twice, she'd tried to bring someone back, and twice, they'd fallen to the silence. They couldn't be. The cold ate them, the quiet broke them, the dark became them. Maybe the next. Maybe another. But - she didn't keep her hopes up.
There wouldn't be another, if they insisted on holding the door closed. On never taking her hand and leading her from where to there. So in where, twixt nowhere and there, she remained.
This man, though, this intruder, was not part of their pattern. He wasn't one they scheduled in their little pieces of time that they were so proud to track. Unconstrained, he wandered, and watchful, the girl kept her distance, a shadow in the trees, slowly approaching with a cautious, curious air. There was something different about this one. There was something - beyond here, too. He was as much a door as the metal thing that lingered in the grove.
"You're not supposed to be here, you know," Charity chastised. She was above him, now, hanging upside down from a tree branch. She smiled. "Do the whitecoats know you're here?"
