Madoka ficlet: Les enfants seuls savent ce qu'ils cherchent
Title: Les enfants seuls savent ce qu'ils cherchent
Author: lifelink
Fandom: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica
Words: 687
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death, Transgender themes, Original character, Spoilers.
Summary: You can be anything you desire. A girl, wishing and falling, living for a dream. A simple wish. Transfic.
Her wish is a simple thing.
Really, it had been all she'd wanted for so long now, just this selfish wish.
Her hand is tight at the loose fabric on her chest, her freshly cut hair pricks at her ears, the weight of her stiff uniform pants is heavy on her legs, and she doesn't dare speak now, lest she fears her voice crack.
But, these words, she thinks, are worth being said no matter the risk.
After all, the creature says that she can change everything.
-
She doesn't have a weapon. Not one that she could truly call her own, at least. All there exists is her amorphous jewel that creates, from her mnemonic dreams, every weapon that she has seen.
The guns of that valiant woman who wished to be saved and fought to save others, the staff of the courteous lady who just wanted to protect her home, the mace of a fragile maiden who's thin arms could barely lift it yet did every thing she could.
What she uses most, though, are the knives. The sharp, sharp knives of the girl she never got to know, who lay dying at her feet as she made her contract. The one who told her she could do anything.
Her gem cracks now. It has always been a shapeless thing, pale and indistinct, but now colours are swelling within it. They are dark and tumultuous things, shading black where her tears fall on her chest and slide to it.
She's isn't quite sure what she is now, like this, on her back, when the bleeding won't stop because she doesn't have the will to make it. If she did, she wouldn't have enough strength to remain as she is. She wants to die like this at least.
There was a time when her heart was clear and resonant. When she had all the dreams in the world and but only one wish.
Now she can be anything and it only hurts more when she can't stay, it only hurts more when she can feel her self vanishing piece by piece.
She hears a voice then, such a beautiful voice, like a long lost friend, and shifts her blurred eyes upward.
This woman is her reaper, she thinks. This woman is her goddess.
But this person too is just a girl and their eyes are infinitely sad.
The girl's hand reach to grip at her heart, their gloved fingers resting delicately on the bitter edges of her crystal. (White gloves, the same colour her soul used to be all that time ago.)
The girl's tears fall onto her like snow and she wants to ask why, but her throat has already closed over and she can no more speak than fix her world. But she thinks that maybe she can pass her will to this being, if to be able to live once more.
They are speaking again, yet the whole world is fog and ice and she can barely hear over her rapid heart but to make out a few words.
“Thank you.” Her angel says, like sunshine “Thank you for all that you've done.”
Her gem is twinkling now, like harsh stars ready to burst into something cruel and hellish. She wonders, vaguely, how she can be so calm when this is obviously the end.
(But better an end than a false beginning and even she has heard the stories.)
“Remember, you were always real.” The girl continues and she wants to laugh, to cry, to break because what time left does she have in which to keep herself, even now that she has found it again in this barren place.
The last thing she hears is her name. The girl says it softly, those tiny sylables in time with the widening cracks, a name even she had not known. And had she heard it earlier perhaps she could have kept moving just a while longer.
But it's beautiful now, even here as she's fading, because it is finally something truly hers. (Truly her.) So she smiles softly and is gone.
Author: lifelink
Fandom: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica
Words: 687
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death, Transgender themes, Original character, Spoilers.
Summary: You can be anything you desire. A girl, wishing and falling, living for a dream. A simple wish. Transfic.
Her wish is a simple thing.
Really, it had been all she'd wanted for so long now, just this selfish wish.
Her hand is tight at the loose fabric on her chest, her freshly cut hair pricks at her ears, the weight of her stiff uniform pants is heavy on her legs, and she doesn't dare speak now, lest she fears her voice crack.
But, these words, she thinks, are worth being said no matter the risk.
After all, the creature says that she can change everything.
-
She doesn't have a weapon. Not one that she could truly call her own, at least. All there exists is her amorphous jewel that creates, from her mnemonic dreams, every weapon that she has seen.
The guns of that valiant woman who wished to be saved and fought to save others, the staff of the courteous lady who just wanted to protect her home, the mace of a fragile maiden who's thin arms could barely lift it yet did every thing she could.
What she uses most, though, are the knives. The sharp, sharp knives of the girl she never got to know, who lay dying at her feet as she made her contract. The one who told her she could do anything.
Her gem cracks now. It has always been a shapeless thing, pale and indistinct, but now colours are swelling within it. They are dark and tumultuous things, shading black where her tears fall on her chest and slide to it.
She's isn't quite sure what she is now, like this, on her back, when the bleeding won't stop because she doesn't have the will to make it. If she did, she wouldn't have enough strength to remain as she is. She wants to die like this at least.
There was a time when her heart was clear and resonant. When she had all the dreams in the world and but only one wish.
Now she can be anything and it only hurts more when she can't stay, it only hurts more when she can feel her self vanishing piece by piece.
She hears a voice then, such a beautiful voice, like a long lost friend, and shifts her blurred eyes upward.
This woman is her reaper, she thinks. This woman is her goddess.
But this person too is just a girl and their eyes are infinitely sad.
The girl's hand reach to grip at her heart, their gloved fingers resting delicately on the bitter edges of her crystal. (White gloves, the same colour her soul used to be all that time ago.)
The girl's tears fall onto her like snow and she wants to ask why, but her throat has already closed over and she can no more speak than fix her world. But she thinks that maybe she can pass her will to this being, if to be able to live once more.
They are speaking again, yet the whole world is fog and ice and she can barely hear over her rapid heart but to make out a few words.
“Thank you.” Her angel says, like sunshine “Thank you for all that you've done.”
Her gem is twinkling now, like harsh stars ready to burst into something cruel and hellish. She wonders, vaguely, how she can be so calm when this is obviously the end.
(But better an end than a false beginning and even she has heard the stories.)
“Remember, you were always real.” The girl continues and she wants to laugh, to cry, to break because what time left does she have in which to keep herself, even now that she has found it again in this barren place.
The last thing she hears is her name. The girl says it softly, those tiny sylables in time with the widening cracks, a name even she had not known. And had she heard it earlier perhaps she could have kept moving just a while longer.
But it's beautiful now, even here as she's fading, because it is finally something truly hers. (Truly her.) So she smiles softly and is gone.