joaniebee: (Default)
joaniebee ([personal profile] joaniebee) wrote2013-03-31 07:00 pm
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Scars (Final Fantasy 9 Beatrix Drabble)

Her reflection is that of a woman with a story hidden beneath the fall of thick curls. Imperfect curls, tangled in early morning disarray. Calloused fingers with reddened tips – tap a tune on the sweat of her class. She licks the corner of her lips, a smile curling agape. Her free hand brushes back curls in the small of her neck, and she admires a scar of many wars ago. The full of her bare chest rises as she sits straight. Fragments of old stitches and now ghostly wounds dip down the ripples of her abdomen.
And she is proud – elated that the gods had blessed her yet again with another morning. Another victory. Her shoulders are battered and her bones will stiffen by midday. Howbeit, she doesn’t complain. It is atonement for the remnants of blood on her blade. Twenty eight springs and a heart already drenched in sin and regret.
She sits the glass on her vanity, lifting from the creaks of her stool. Stretched limbs, she picks the bandana from her mirror frame, lacing the fabric over the stitches of her ruined eye lid. 
General Beatrix beholds the shadows of her modest chamber; coat neatly folded on her bed frame, polished boots accompanying her trusted guard – Save the Queen.
Hands on her hips, a ghost of a laugh escapes her lips.
Twenty eight springs, one would think she’d be used to all that came after her run in with death. An eye for a soul.
But she still can not help but be amazed. She is grateful.