Monday, 31 March 2014

Rain Doll .1

Juvia is made of rain

"Do not be angry with the rain; it simply does not know how to fall upwards." – Vladimir Nabokov
.
.
Usually, Juvia is a conundrum.
She isn't an unhappy girl (not now that she's found Fairy Tail) but at the same time, she isn't a happy one, either.
The front room of Fairy Hills is empty when she opens the door. Silently, she moves through the building – it's too late to be yesterday and too early to be tomorrow, and she knows that this is a time to be quiet and alone.
No-one knows better than her when it is appropriate to be in solitude (even though the sound of the rain billowing against the walls of this building sounds different from her old guildhall, and she loves that).
Juvia is the drip-drop in the corner and she is the mist that gives you shivers in the morning. She is like a storm out at sea, and if you are careless, you will unwittingly drown. She's seen it happen over and over and over, countless times.
Indeed, if there is one thing that Juvia knows – one thing that Juvia does best – it is rain.
They used to say she made God cry. She didn't mean to, she never did, but it didn't matter what she wanted and what she didn't because the fact of the matter was that wherever she went, the rain followed.
She gently closes the door behind her, not wanting to disturb anyone who might be up at this time. (She saw the Titania polishing some armour through the window – Juvia must remind herself that she is not alone in her loneliness).
She used to hate it, she used to hate the rain (but isn't that what Juvia is? they would ask) but then she got used to the wet clothes and the heavy hair. She got used to stabbing against her skin and soon enough, she herself joined the water and it didn't hurt anymore. It took time, but she accepted it in the end (even though she was happy when he took it away).
Juvia has been at Fairy Tail for three days, and she is already terrified. She wonders who she will drown this time. (Maybe she should leave now, before she can't.)
She strips out of her wet clothes (they were cold) and lets them pool on the floor behind her. She wraps a bathrobe around her body – it's huge and completely engulfs her in its embrace – and carefully opens her window.
The familiar patter against the glass soothes her. She lets her hand dangle outside, let's the raindrops splatter across her arm and shatter into tiny liquid fragments, or watches as they meld with her because she is water and they are the same.
Juvia is made of rain.
It's a little strange to know that it wasn't her fault this time – she hasn't done that, (not since meeting him,) not since seeing that blue, blue sky.
Right now, it is Juvia who is following the rain, and not the other way around. But it's still the same, really, no matter what the order.
Rain will fall eventually. (and so did she)
(and she remembers his hand around her arm after he fought, he defeated her, and he was holding her up, keeping her from falling and shattering like one of these little, delicate raindrops.)
Her concentration is lost – her hand becomes solid again and the water breaks against her skin once more.
For the first time in a long time, Juvia doesn't mind. It's not that bad, falling... if somebody wants to catch you.
.
.
.
(fairy tail - juvia loxar)
www.fanfiction.net/s/9793833/1/Rain-Doll 

Saturday, 29 March 2014

i miss you, papa

If I could catch your voice in a net and protect it in a locket, I would. And I'd keep it around my neck, safe and mute, and hold on to you when they scream bloody-murder around your name.
Not your name. But the name you took... Yes, they'd scream that all right.

You know he took you, right? He took all of you. He took you away and he left me behind... and I followed him to the house where he made you murder that family. Do you remember? Could you remember? (Have you left me behind as well?)

I miss the life I could have had. I want a picture of us holding hands in the park like a family. I want to know what it feels like to have my mother smooth my hair. I want to taste food that was made for me, and I want that home. I want a home. I want a home, with you, and our friends, and a mother who loves me, and a fireplace to curl up beside.

I don't ask for much any more, you know. But if I could save up all those unspoken wishes, I would just pray for one thing. That's all. Nothing too difficult to grant, nothing ridiculous, nothing too selfish... I would just ask that you forgive yourself, and make peace.
God, I'd die for that to happen.

I miss you, papa.


(ariana riddle)