if i die tomorrow - permanent hiatus

countdown

     The next week passed by in a blur.

     I returned to the Vanilla Cafe. All I could think about as I drew nearer and nearer to the lovely little coffee shop was how it was such a pain to travel the entirety of the Lanayru Promenade twice every day. 

     Zelda's Travel Medallion would help. I thought dimly.

     Riju was the first to greet me as I pulled open the door. The usual creamy scent was dizzying, like a blow to the chest.

     "You're not a minute early." I'd nearly forgotten exactly how intense her eyes were until they burnt into me once more. "Come on in, and quickly. They're waiting for you."

     I stumbled through my shift, unable to keep my mind from wandering to blood. I didn't even bring a weapon this time, and my wounds were covered up completely. Urbosa's expression as she made her adjustments to my outfit was seared into my mind, now that we both knew what I was walking into. 

     Better to abandon our honour. She had said, her voice thin and tight with forced control, as she smeared copious amounts of makeup on my skin. It was like a mask to cover up my fighter's scars. Better to abandon our pride and do as they like, for now. When we succeed, nobody will have to dress up like this against their will for strangers. 

     It was nearly impossible to work up the courage to step out of the headquarters, but after emerging into the mountains, it was like the cold wind had numbed me. My mind was empty.

     I felt each touch, each time an arm was slung across my shoulders like the most natural thing in the world, like a burn on my skin. Like a brand that marked me as lesser. As an object.

     Shame swallowed me. 

     The luminous soul within Riju's eyes dimmed every time she stepped out into the main cafe, bearing plates of sweets doused with sugary syrup and coffee. Her fake smile was so well-practised sometimes even I forgot she wasn't just a happy little waitress in a happy little cafe. However, it was impossible to forget the way her artificial meekness ate away at the fire within her eyes. 

     (I talk about Riju's eyes a lot. Do y'alls see why? There's a plot reason for this that I'm still not sure if I'm going to go ahead and add, but I'm setting the stage anyway in case I do move forwards with this plot point.) 

     She was turning into a doll, a smile stitched eternally onto her face, her emerald eyes like broken lightbulbs. It was killing who she was. It was killing the girl who had a story to tell. 

     (Oh, and by the way, this whole thing is partly in protest to fanart and fanfics over-sexualizing Riju. Come on, guys. She's like, twelve.)

     It wasn't just her. Every single one of my co-workers wore the exact same expression of stiff indulgence. Like they wanted more than anything to show their fangs and tear the whole place down, but had to tackle their own wills to stay gentle, to stay quiet. Like they were choking their voices. 

     I hated that I could do nothing for them at the moment, at least, directly. All I could do was watch. Bide my time. Endure. 

     It was like a burst of fresh air when I finally escaped the Cafe. Once again I ran until I couldn't run anymore.

     There were an overwhelming amount of employees that couldn't even leave these doors. Couldn't run from the scent of vanilla. 

     I found myself humming again when I returned to the HQ. I dumped my bag filled with makeup and my clothes in the room I'd chosen, threw down the money bag full of generous tips, and took out the notebook I'd been secretly filling during my shift. My left-handed writing was shaky and messy, but it was just something else I had to work with.