When a Heart pretends to Bleed.

Fate's Design.

The crackling of fire shook him out of his thoughts, dark eyes flitting over to the candles that casted light and shadow on the flimsy candelabra that supported them. Red silk curtains served as backdrop, intensifying his anxiety. 

He played with the fraying threads on his cuffs, gulping as a cold drop of sweat rolled down his temple. The night was warm. Yet the presence in his peripheral vision froze him to his tendons. Even still, he could not keep his eyes off for too long. 

Ah, she truly was Heavenly. 

Wooden boards creaked under him as he shifted on his knees, wishing to subdue the discomfort he felt from sitting straight for hours. Regardless, the woman paid him no attention. Her eyes were closed, no furrowing showcasing any sign of focus- Like she was asleep while sitting. Softly tanned skin shone under the flame, dark lashes curled and unfettered by flutters. Long, long hair fell down her lap and formed a puddle of void around her, forming a terrifying image in his mind, of coal webs slinking up to him and tightening till his life was but another chore for the tendrils. 

Still as a statue, the only movement that betrayed her as naught more than a doll was that of her hands. Long fingers swayed back and forth in a motion so graceful that it almost lulled him to sleep.  A needle held gently in between stitched away on a cloth, red thread weaving the image of a spider lily: a colour so vivid it matched her lips.

The man wet his lips, recognising how cracked they were. Perhaps...he should have taken care of the way he looked before he went and seeked out the fate weaver herself. Especially when she was a piece of art so ethereal it frightened him. But he was already here. There is no going back now. His mother did not raise a coward. 

Deep breaths in. Slow breaths out.

"My lady." However, before he could continue, the haggard mortal was cut off by a hush. The woman before him had stilled, not even her hands continuing with their incessant cursing. 

'Fate...is misfortune invalidated.' That way of thinking seemed to come to life in the form of the feminine figure herself. Not a breath seemed to come from her nose and the man wondered- if he were to reach close, to lay his hand against her lips, would he feel the lack of it too? Would she be colder than a corpse, however alive the warm colour of her skin may attempt at deceiving? 

The way his thinking was going tensed his muscles for he realised and acknowledged the fact that she was not human, not humane and likely would neither feel like one, nor act like one. 

A squeak alerted him. Her neck had turned, porcelain features now facing him. Her brows were thick- untouched. His mother had once told him that such a look gave off innocence. And she was right. But this woman...she was all but so. She wrote so many tragedies, one too many lives ended as she did so. For him, she was far from innocent. 

Regardless, she was creeping him out. Not even the banging of scrawny branches against window panes faltered her. 

As of now, she was looking at him. Eyes closed but he knew. He knew she was looking. Seeing something he could not. Seeing something he would rather not. Minutes passed and she still faced him, his heart speeding up the longer she did so. Discombobulated beyond his capability of handling, he thought back to his purpose, tongue twisting while his brain scrambled away all the words he wished he could say. 

His dry eyes could finally quench their thirst as the image of his sister came to mind, a thud reverberating in the quiet as his forehead met the floor. 

"I beg you- Please...You know what I am here for." His teeth clenched as he held back on sobbing, throat becoming cluttered with emotions. His stiff back found solace when he bowed, soon to end up just as pained as before. "You also have another name! Another name- You know it too. She holds no hope. So please- defy her expectations. I'll give you whatever you wish for-! After all, you are the Dream Deceiver too...You can...Only you can change her fu-" 

Once more, he was cut off. This time by a sigh. One that seemed tired beyond centuries.  So, so tired.

"You fool." 

At this he raised his head, flustered for the more part and offended for the lesser one. 

Her eyes were open.

Really, he wishes she had kept them close. 

"What makes you think I have the authority to do so?"

Since he came here, he had faced confusion regarding several things already. This however, was a topic he did not want to entertain. After all, how could there be anyone above one who writes out lives of generations along the centuries? How could there possibly be someone? If there was, what did they do? Was there a task bigger than assigning destiny? 

But in the end, he was a mere mortal. Apparently, the woman realised so too. As such, after minutes of haunting silence, she seemed to give in.

"Life is an exchange. You switch one misfortune out for another. As of now, you know her fate by the interference of those witches. If I were to switch it out…" Lids slipping shut, she retreated back into the comfort of her soft tresses. "Death is the easy way out, human. Many wish for it. What she may get might just end up being worse."

Index finger of her right hand slipped to the wispy strands of her hair that lay by her knee, a nail threatening to cut one. 

"Think carefully, mortal." 

He was scared. Was there no way out? No way to keep his sister from skipping away to the after-life? She is still so young. So full of life. So very kind, the very definition of peace in his life. 

 And he was even younger. Had he no choice but to lose the companion who had seen and looked after him since day one? The one who could understand him without them speaking a word, a look? 

Jaw trembling, a broken sob spilled from his lips as he curled in on himself, fingers uncontrollably shaking as he attempted to stuff the cries away into his mouth. He felt sick to his stomach. A cold that seemed to crumble his bones weighed his heart down, bile rising up into his throat. 

All the while, she just watched. 

She could not understand. She had weaved away the births of kingdoms and their falls, the rise of a tyrant and it's slayer, the start of an eternity and it's happily ever after. Now, was it that she, as a non-human, was simply not meant to sympathise? Though...the wail that boy let out seemed to cause an itch by her eyes.

It was not often she came across a human. It was not often one seeked her out. It was not nearly a daily coincidence that one seeked her out for a loved one. 

She had seen it all in him. The way he and his older sister got along. The time they snuck around houses of their neighbours, their wrestling sessions which often ended with chipped teeth, the sister sharing every belonging of hers in an equal amount with him whether it be food, money or a scolding. She saw as they played with the other neighbourhood children. The way they'd tease others so yet not allow another to do the same. 

She saw all he did.

Including the day they came across a witch and the day they dreamt of the sisters' grave. 

It was a lovely grave. Clean as can be- made of marble. 

...In her opinion, he should go home. Spend time with her lest he can no more. 

It was not long before he was stumbling out of the place, face, knuckles and arms bruised. His throat could not handle another word and his eyes could not see anything but a blur. 

...She's so very tired. 

Her fingers reached up to rub along the itch in her eyes only to pull back to spot an inky drop rolling down them. Her eyes flitted down to her threads, a forlorn smile curlin her lips and cracking their edges. 

"Ah...it seems that I will have to rewrite it all over again. Really, what a lucky human."