It is by nothing more than coincidence that I stumble upon her.

I cannot remember her name, having only met her once among evening shadows and lamplight, but I could never forget a face—and, of course, those peculiarly beautiful wings of hers, which are unlike any of those I had seen among the bustling streets of Uumalah. I may not be able to recall her name, but I remember that she was kind. Perhaps even a little too kind, but that is only up to my own corrupted judgement, because she had treated me with gentleness and compassion when she had no need to. I might have not known her well, but knowing that is more than enough.

Ascending the smooth, marbled steps to join her at the Rotunda’s floor, I pause for a moment, staring. The sunlight filters in through the stained-glass roof overhead, falling in colorful shafts of light that dance across her figure—nearly giving the illusion of life, if there wasn’t something so eerie about how still she lies beneath the kaleidoscope of illuminations. This is not my first time seeing a body (though my broken heart screams for it to be the last)...all the same, this Rotunda might just be the most beautiful burial ground I have seen. It is very fitting for her, I decide.

Wandering across the smooth stone floor, my eyes can’t seem to leave her face, and I study her young (far, far too young—) and delicate features with a softened gaze. Her eyes are a warm hazel, and quite beautiful; a detail I had failed to notice when we had met. She seems to be staring off at something (someone?) and, after examining her frozen expression, I tell myself that she looks happy.

Despite whatever it is that had driven her to such misery (because the sweet sting of nightshade is a poison that I recognize) at least in death, just maybe, she has found the peace that she had so sorely longed for. “Qad tajid ‘akhiraan alssalam, farashatan sayida,” I murmur humbly in my native tongue, blessing her with whatever little benedictions that I (a broken woman) can give. Reverently I reach down to brush my muzzle across her face, closing her eyes so that she could be sleeping, and finally put her to rest. “Qad tajid alssalam,” I whisper again, my breath warm across her cold cheek.


notes; @Watermel0nBob <33
“Qad tajid ‘akhiraan alssalam, farashatan sayida” : “May you finally find peace, lady butterfly”
“Qad tajid alssalam” : “May you find peace”
“Speech.”

I pirouette in the dark

Tired mechanical heart—Beats til the song disappears