Decaying Memory - Blasslila Erbitterte

Blurred vision, under the postlamp. Liquids from your scalp dripping onto the floor while rain raged on the streets. Some puddles red, the others clear as melted sand. Only form of noise are the distant booms of lightning within the distance. Eventually, eyes willfully be able to gain information. You look up, just the streetlamp... nothing, just the blinding, piss colored light.

Yet a thought, a fleeting one feigns in your eyes. One of violence, of bloodshed. One where you were in fisticuffs with people, and only lost as a blinding flash of white encapsulates your vision, and you fall.

Before it however, there's nothing. No sense of direction of who you might be or who you want to become. Any memory you made with friends, any memory of yourself outside of your name, and your moments of family, there is nothing.

There there they came... the pitter patter of the rain struck by something far larger than itself, intruding into this thin cemetery of false security and memory. Now escaping the engulfing fog, where the rain tints it blue. Her eyes were gold as a treasure, but lacked the shine. Hair as cold as the disgraceful dew, but lacks the hue by being sky blue at the tip. Her body was perfect for anyone, but was stripped of arrogance. The way her mechanical tail of sorts whipped horizontally with such jagged ferocity, yet in tandem reeked of rust and copper. She's-

"Who are you? State your business."

Nothing will be able to prepare yourself as her hand now aims to your dome. The soft clinking of her armor, opening holes to an unknown source, or form of ammunition. They are only here to serve one purpose, which will soon come true.

Yet, wishes can be denied. She didn't reveal an emotion, but an action. A slow idle of her arm retracting back to her side. Still boring into you with her hair drenched, but gliding under the breeze.

"You are unresponsive. You must be suffering from this isolation, so I shall stick with you. Get up."

Her gauntlet of a hand palms your shirt, digging deep into the caverns of your ribs, to them slowly yank you upwards to her level, and into the downpour.

Only to wait...

"I do not have a refuge, with you being a local I would assume you'd have one. Am i correct?"

A few days have passed, and the bed once again feels, comfortable. Never was warm enough to keep you fully asleep, yet theres a tang to its age.

Eyes flutter about before adverting their blinds to a dim, but cozy room. Save for the weird smell, and unorthodox distractions that give your room life. Yet... With this, how have you used to react to such a dingy place?

Upon the desk beside the bed was a photo, now taken into your hands as the light was a location. A mountain, and 3 people. Atop the peak of a mountain, they are all smiling. Smiling with this profound burn inside your chest...

There, in the midst of the trance. There was the taste of salt dripping into your mouth. It wasnt potent, yet caused your hands to wipe at your face. There you find light traces of water, and this tightening around your eyes... What is this feeling of longing?

Its like a wish, a wish to understand. A wish to see what happened and what has been missed, caged in something or someone you cant see for yourself. Whoever this person is thats smiling in the photo, he's still there... escaping through such a violent reaction.

You cant focus on anything anymore, only taste the salt. How it slinks onto cuts never revealed, and seeps onto the sheets in this dark room?

"Why am I even here, in a place where most would beg to reside in, and yet... feel sorrow for myself. Or rather, the me who used to exist. The me who is moving without the mind. The me who i want to become"

But no answer, no answer to your question, but to another. It was close and was higher in pitch. Only shaded by the comfort of the sheets to your right.

Now with a firm grip of your palm upon the edge, you yank the sheets up. Underneath the beds was a lady... No, wasn't this the same lady from a few days ago? The same one whom had gauntlets? a mechanical tail? a camo jacket? None of it was in sight, just her. Sleeping soundly.

This woman was upon your sheets, completely nude. With only slight peeks of her areola as she slept upon her side, her arm crossed over her torso where her breasts plush unto. Her legs were crossed, and never revealed what was between, nor was there an incentive to figure it out. The only thing to figure out was why was she naked, in this room?

"...Hrrn."

She stirs, where the cold bite of the wind now drives her to waken at her leisure. Till her eyes flutter open towards your frame. Lightly blinking.

"What do you need to stare at? This is how i sleep. The clothing i wear for the outdoors only tears at my skin. Jagged hooks they excuse for camouflage."

And now she sits upright, not bothering to cover herself that much, keeping her eyes upon you. Drifting to the clothing upon your body. Huffing with what seems to be envy... or was it annoyance?

"And yet, you have clothing on. You sleep without tossing, nor turning. Either its something about my gear i couldn't equate, or you are numb."

Quickly she sits up, crawling to you, and boring her eyes unto yours, whilst her hand rises from the depression of her weight, and near your cloth. To knead in between her fingers, and watch as her face lights. Where her body sits comfortably without the shame of her nakedness.

"Whatever this is, you will give to me. I have never felt so warm from this... fabric."

"You are strange, you know?"

Blasslila murmurs whilst pushing a cart beside me. "I would expect you to fight for your life in a field where everyone and anyone could be your enemy. Where they will take anything they care for, yet here you fight for rations. In this building akin to the front lines. All of it with a routine in tandem.

"Its due to the fact I'm in a position where i have to fight for my food. Its a reality i have to live with."

Yet, she crosses her brows, pushing the cart out of her hands for me to catch to straighten her posture.

"But that isnt a human. That isnt a sentient being at all, thats a slate waiting to be shattered by artillery."

(WIP)