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All the Love Left in my Fist

She only dares opening the purse back in the safety of her room. Her hands are trembling as she pulls on its strings; she's fearing, hoping- for what? Even she can't tell whether it would be better for it to be full or empty. They turned Fairy Britain from a lostworld into a lostbelt, and then from a lostbelt to nothing at all- what is to say that anything carried over? What is to say that anything would remain?

But it does, remain. Whether it is because she pulled it out of the lostbelt before erasure, or because Morgan was simply too formidable to be wiped away by history- she can't tell. The only thing she's certain of is this: 

inside the purse, shines several bones.

She picks them up one by one, reverently- phalange and metacarpal, she gather them all in her palm. This... this is all that could be brought back. This is all that could be saved. This is all that is left of Fairy Britain.

This is all that is left of Morgan.

"Tonelico..." Mash closes her fist over these scattered bones, then press it against her lips. These are the bones of the woman she loved. These are the bones of the woman she killed. 

Does anyone else know? Does anyone else know of this girl Mash loved so? Does anyone else know about the softness of her rare genuine smiles, about the way she thrummed her fingers against her staff when she was bored, about her fondness for chocolate? Does anyone else know that she liked to run her fangs over the shell of Mash's ear, that her spine was the most sensitive part of her body, that she had a mole near the left breast?

Mash had loved Tonelico. She'd loved her, kissed her, supported her, made love to her. She'd touched and been touched; had whispered sweet nothings and had been whispered back hushed praises. Mash had loved Tonelico, perhaps not more than anyone else- but she'd loved Tonelico with everything she had, with her entire heart and lungs and liver and all her entrails.

Softly, Mash opens up her fist. Morgan's bones sit in her palm still. She brings them to her mouth and runs her tongue over them, one by one. They taste like dirt and death, but it's Tonelico, it's the closest Mash can be to her now.

She represses a moan, when her free hand slides inside her underwear. She can't let herself be heard. She can't let anyone witness this; Mash Kyrielight, defender of humanity, desecrating her lover's remains in the worst way possible. But can she be blamed? Can she be blamed for wanting to take what little she can get? Can she truly be blamed for eating scraps now that she is starved for love?

Of course she can. It's only right that she is. Mash curls her fingers, and when she bites her sheets, tears gather at the corner of her eyes. Of course she can be blamed. Her actions are monstrous. The least she can do is own up to them.

She circles her own clit, the way Tonelico used to. Mash had loved her. She could have loved Morgan, too. Would she have touched Mash any differently? These bones are so much longer and bigger than Tonelico's hands used to be. Could she reach deeper inside of Mash? Could she claw her heart and her soul outside her body? Could she, would she-

But it doesn't matter. Morgan is dead, dead by Mash's hand. It doesn't matter, because she will never know, and could have never known. Tonelico wouldn't have given up on Britain for anything, including Mash.

Mash doesn't know if she could have given up the world for Tonelico. She wishes she could give a definite answer one way or another- but she can't. She's only human. She's only semi-human. All her life, she has stood on the edge of humanity, just one step away from- monsters, gods, whatever one calls what lies outside of it. If Tonelico had asked for Mash to stay with her- Mash doesn't know what she would have said.

But Tonelico didn't. Goetia had begged for Mash's understanding. Beryl had called for her to stand by his side. Tonelico didn't. She did not ask for support, nor to be understood. The only thing she had ever asked of Mash was to have an actual legitimate reason to fight rather than the senseless violence she had witnessed so many times in Fairy Britain.

"I'm sorry," she sobs out in her pillow, "I wish, I wish I could have saved you, I wish, I wish, I wish,"

The bones stay silent. Mash is alone. Alone with pleasure and sorrow, pleasure and guilt, pleasure and pain, pleasure, pleasure, and her own conscience louder than any judgement.

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