Cleaning Bones
There isn’t much of a body left.
There isn’t much of anything left, really. Fairies are simple in their cruelties. When they were done taking the body apart, they took anything that looked even vaguely precious, and threw the rest into the great pit. The only evidence left of the violence that occurred in the throne room is a large pool of blood, some tattered fabric, and the severed hand Mash smuggles inside her pocket.
Hiding her own emotions has never been her forte; Mash is the kind to wear her heart on her sleeve. She must be doing an okay job though, because no one stops her when she leaves the scene of the crime. Senpai shoots them a worried look, but, bless them, they do not follow.
She only dares to take her prize out when she’s certain she’s out of sight.
It’s a bloody, mangled thing. Not even a full hand, really. A forefinger, a middle finger, a thumb, and some flesh to tie them all together. The nails are perfectly trimmed. The skin is pale, almost white- no blood leaks from the open wound anymore.
This… this used to be a person’s hand. There’s a bit of an ink smudge, on the side of the index finger. There are calluses on the knuckles, where they used to hold onto that staff.
This used to be a person’s hand.
This used to be Tonelico’s hand.
For the first time since that battle, Mash allows herself to openly weep.
Tonelico. Tonelico. Tonelico. Mash cradles that hand to her cheek, staining it with her tears. Tonelico. Tonelico. Tonelico. Mash knows that hand, has held that hand, has kissed that hand, it’s bigger than it used to be, has more scars than it used to have, but she knows that hand, she knows that hand, Tonelico, Tonelico, Tonelico!
With trembling hands, Mash brings these severed fingers to her lips. They feel cold. She squeezes her eyes shut, tracing kisses over these knuckles.
“Tonelico,” she whispers. “Tonelico, Tonelico. Morgan.”
She’d given Mash her true name, that day- during these last few seconds of consciousness in the fairy calendar. The least Mast can do is use it. Tonelico had been her friend, Morgan had been her enemy, but they were, ultimately, the same person. Tonelico, Morgan, this woman who cared more than she ever wished to, this woman who would strive for her ideal at the cost of her own happiness, this woman who did not seek understanding or acceptance but merely asked for Mash to find her own reason to fight.
And Mash couldn’t even deal the final blow herself. She did kill Morgan, yes- but that did not stick. She could not give her friend the simple favor of a clean death.
She kisses those knuckles one last time, then sets them down. What should she do with these? She can’t hang onto them forever; they will rot and fall apart inside her pocket. Morgan deserved better than that.
Mash could bury her, she supposes. Fairies don’t normally bury the dead. No one would unearth her to defile her. It’s probably what she would have wanted; to be part of Britain forever.
Or she could…
For a few seconds, Mash hesitates. What she wants… would be betrayal. Would be blatant desecration of a corpse. Morgan barely even has one left. She can’t do that. She can’t do that.
But… Mash is tired of losing people without a single thing to hold onto afterwards. The Doctor. Da Vinci. Ophelia. Just once, just once, Mash would like something she can hold.
“... I’m sorry,” she apologizes as she reaches for the hunting knife, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
It’s a quick job. There is just too little of a body to begin with. Carefully, Mash scrapes the skin off, then the sinews, the muscles, the fat, until all that is left are the bones. When she’s done, she digs a small hole into the earth to bury this shapeless bundle of flesh, then goes to wash the bones in the river.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes again. “Tonelico. Morgan. My friend. My love. I’m sorry. Please try to understand.”
It’s silly, to apologize to a person who cannot hear. Sillier, perhaps, to mourn someone she had fully intended- and technically succeeded- to kill. Mash does it anyways. There has to be meaning to things even if they do not change a thing. She has to believe it. For Morgan. For Senpai. For herself.
Once they’re clean, Mash kisses each of these bones, one by one. Then, she slips them in a purse, and ties it around her neck, so that they would always hang near her heart. Finally, she dons her armor once more, hiding her deeds to the rest of the world, and heads out to join her team again. The coronation is tomorrow. The world moves on, and so she must.
anta_permana: holy sweet fuck versegm i finally got to reading this and audubsibweybybf it doesn't disappoints at all the repetition from your works that convey the emphasis and emotions behind works is something that i now apply to my own stuff thanks for the inspiration and yo yooo yoooooolifuneioybfuwefvewu this is fucking lovely to read thank you for writing it and never shutting up about mashmorgan
Halcyon722: This had me fucking howling and (figuratively) punching holes in my goddamn walls. Many people would find the idea of stripping, cleaning, and carrying around your lover's bones macabre at best and insane at worst, but how fitting it is that love is often so insane. Hand imagery comes up so often in your works, so I suppose it's a natural endpoint for someone to cut off somebody else's hand and carry it around with them. My mind is racing thinking about what comes next, what comes after the events of the Lostbelt. Do this Morgan's bones make it back to Chaldea after Cosmos Denial, or do they vanish along with the rest of Fairy Britain? Is something so pure as Mash's wish to have something to hold taken from her as well?
Even then, much as I oh so desperately wish that Morgan's bones make it, what about when Morgan is summoned to Chaldea? When Morgan and Mash inevitably, painfully meet again, what the FUCK happens if Morgan ever finds out? Even having forgotten Mash, how would she react to who is essentially a stranger carrying around her bones? My skull runs over with the possibilities, and I lose myself in a torrent of conflicting emotions, wishing desperately that Mash both never has to have that confrontation, and PAINFULLY wanting it to happen anyway.
11/10, my brain is being forcibly re-wired by Mash's desperate wish to have proof that it wasn't all for nothing.