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Apr. 13th, 2012 02:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevenyearbeautysleepShe stares at the mask before her, hanging from a nail on the wall like it always has all these years. But it's not how it's supposed to look - not how it's always looked - the originally benign face of the wooden carving now wide awake, its glossed eyes open and embedded with jewels she has never seen before, its formerly blank surface painted with symbols foreign, and even the originally small horns adorning it have grown to full fledge antlers, complete with long, drooping, presumably leather ears hanging from its sides. What an odd mask... she's only kept it because the Great Deku Tree gave it to her.
Why has she never worn it, either? Never really had the need, right?
Staring at it now, it seems different - even beyond its metamorphed looks. An odd, foreign energy can be felt humming from the heart shaped mask - drawing her closer to it... And as she steps forward, gently placing her fingers on its surface, it feels warm and melancholy. It even sounds like heartbreak, the magic reverberating off of it humming in her ears. Lifting it off the wall and into her hands, the weight feels familiar - wanted, even. Like it's supposed to be there, in her hands, against her skin...
And suddenly, she regrets putting the mask on fully, the wood nearly grafting itself to her skin like a second face, the pain unbearable - it was almost like it was attempting to rip off her own flesh to replace it, like the masked believed the face she was wearing was unworthy of her person.
Odd, unknown memories began to flood into her mind - memories belonging to someone she has never met before, never seen before... yet vaguely familiar memories. As if she was an old woman, reminiscing on her days as a child.
Throughout the painful ordeal, those memories were the only thing comforting her. The more they flooded her mind, the more it clicked; those were her memories.
That was her body.
He was hers. He still is...
She's not entirely sure when she had blacked out in that mess - nor why no one had heard her. Her throat was sore... had she really made that much noise? Slowly sitting up, she places her hands on the mask that still adorned her face, covering its eyes as if they were her own, and gently pulled it off. The inside was wet, as were her cheeks. So much crying... Her chest still hurt from all that. Even though it wasn't that much of a sad parting the first time around, the second time... Having to subside his rage, and now not knowing where he went...
Why has she never worn it, either? Never really had the need, right?
Staring at it now, it seems different - even beyond its metamorphed looks. An odd, foreign energy can be felt humming from the heart shaped mask - drawing her closer to it... And as she steps forward, gently placing her fingers on its surface, it feels warm and melancholy. It even sounds like heartbreak, the magic reverberating off of it humming in her ears. Lifting it off the wall and into her hands, the weight feels familiar - wanted, even. Like it's supposed to be there, in her hands, against her skin...
And suddenly, she regrets putting the mask on fully, the wood nearly grafting itself to her skin like a second face, the pain unbearable - it was almost like it was attempting to rip off her own flesh to replace it, like the masked believed the face she was wearing was unworthy of her person.
Odd, unknown memories began to flood into her mind - memories belonging to someone she has never met before, never seen before... yet vaguely familiar memories. As if she was an old woman, reminiscing on her days as a child.
Throughout the painful ordeal, those memories were the only thing comforting her. The more they flooded her mind, the more it clicked; those were her memories.
That was her body.
He was hers. He still is...
She's not entirely sure when she had blacked out in that mess - nor why no one had heard her. Her throat was sore... had she really made that much noise? Slowly sitting up, she places her hands on the mask that still adorned her face, covering its eyes as if they were her own, and gently pulled it off. The inside was wet, as were her cheeks. So much crying... Her chest still hurt from all that. Even though it wasn't that much of a sad parting the first time around, the second time... Having to subside his rage, and now not knowing where he went...
