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they sit beside each other, and as the atmosphere is heavy with unexpressed thoughts and masked emotions, the foxian asks her dear friend:
''What are you thinking of right now, Jingliu?''
and her voice is so soft and soothing, the sword master would probably cradle herself with it in another world, but not in this one, never here and now.
she responds, tone mellow and quiet:
''It's not the right time to tell you.''
she's thinking too much. of everything and nothing, the universe and a tiny speck in it, the stars and the ground, baiheng and herself. but indeed she thinks this is no good time to tell her friend the truth, the truth that in her mind baiheng deserves the world and yet she thinks of baiheng as her world, she's everything and jingliu's just a person. the time's not right, she thought. she didn't know that that was the last time she could ever speak her true thoughts to baiheng.
baiheng stares at her for a moment with a hint of confusion until responding:
''Ah, I see... Will you tell me later?''
''Yes.. later sounds perfect.''
(but later would become a time of death and grief, despair, depression. she should've said it all right then and there. she couldn't.)
baiheng flashed a wide grin at jingliu, and the latter could only take it in for a second before turning her gaze away. the foxian's smile was too bright, it burned the sword master's eyes and yet she craved more. too much. the sun would have the same effect on her if she stared at its beauty too long.
''I'll be waiting, then!''
.
.
.
.
now jingliu stares with red eyes covered by a blindfold at the sunrays, as if wanting her vision to go a different shade of red than it already is and then turn dark, leaving her passed away on the ground. she eventually looks back down and there's a peculiar sight in her eyes.
she sees her again.
she knows its a delusion of her mind tattered by insanity, but would it be so bad to convince herself it's real? would it really hurt?
she stands, looking at the phantom of her late friend, and it's wonderful to her just how well she still remembers that foxian girl.
jingliu's image of her didn't get distorted, not one bit. not the gleam in her eyes, not the shimmer of her grin, not the spark of life she brought everywhere she went. it's all still there.
...it might be the closest thing to a miracle.
the figure starts approaching jingliu, and her breath catches in her throat. the girl puts her hand on jingliu's cheek (she can't feel it, she can't, but it still feels so real) and smiles softly.
jingliu's vision gets foggy as tears threaten to spill out. when did she get so weak? she doesn't wish to cry. the tears stream down anyway. baiheng moves her fingers as if trying to wipe the sword master's tears (it's not real, the tears aren't dried, she will never come back.)
the ground shakes under jingliu's feet and she collapses as the phantom of her friend dissipates. it's a pitiful sight. there's no shoulder present to cry into. nobody's there.
it's all she can think of.
she looks back up at the sun, staring until her vision gets dark and she falls to the ground.
forget.
she needs to forget.