Bath yourself in ice and hyacinths
Unsure of today, tomorrow
Your white carnations are frost and frail,
And you do not know of forsythias yet
Echoes.
They were starting to hate the echoes- the relays to their mind and his mind and them- both-them, minds, back and forth and around, round, round…..
It was dark. And as much as they preferred dark hues, they hated it. The dark hues of Yang, was what they needed, wanted, and craved. They knew the other, the other-Yang, Yang…. Was taken, stolen from his dark- so far yet so close, and taken from the cell and pinned down, like beetles on display, needles thrust through the stiffened exoskeleton.
There is no purpose of defence, if it is useless.
They could see, hear, smell, the atmosphere Yang was taken to-
See, the strange machines and pointed tools, the billows of cloaked uniform worn by the cruel Being with harsh pinning glare and sinister smile.
Hear, the beeps and whirls and hums of the rooms and walls, the shrieks his twin, twin, twin is his safety, why wasn't he here with him????- and shout and on bad, bad days, screams and howls of anger and pain.
Smell, the blood rich air and singed smoke of burns and metal blades, the vile chemicals of bubbled liquids.
Even now, that link stayed, the softest reminder his other was still there, still alive.
It wasn't the easiest life,
It wasn’t the happiest life,
It wasn’t even the best life,
- But it was theirs. And if listening, listening and knowing that the frail flicker of hope may stay if Yang still stayed.
Ying heard everything, the rippled hisses of Yang, coiled like a fierce snake that had been prodded, the cruel lady in the distance, talking in bored tones.
Ying didn’t know how they were able to see through his twin's senses… they just could, and it made them a little calmer, a little more mellow in their movements. It came with problems, however- Ying didn’t know where they were, and who they were, at times, or what was happening. But they could extend this ability, and tap, tap, tap-
“I am fully aware you want them intact, Michael.” came the fluid voice of the Lady. Her senses were weird, odd, her sight different from Ying’s, different from Yang's, her eyes were foggy with reds, yellows and and greens, hot and cold- not colours. “But this is an opportunity I’ve never had, and besides, you wanted their corpses, not alive,”
She was speaking to the box pressed to her ear, which was long and pointed, flickering in irritation. The box spoke- Ying didn’t understand it, honestly. “I’m fully aware, Cue. But those experiments are very valuable, and they may be your play things, but if their Life-Forces are damaged, I’m taking back my gift to you,” Came an icy growl, words oozing through Ying's mind, making them feel sick in the tummy.
The lady inhaled sharply, and there was the soft touch of her pressing fingers under her eyes, nervous. There were the prickles of her scales, Ying could almost feel them as if they were his own, standing up on end like the fur of a spooked feline. “Understood, Michael.” she said primly, and the ooze voice vanished with a beep, and Ying left, coiling in his quiet mind and quieter thoughts.
It had been long since when they were one.
Ying didn't remember it well- but he remembered the few precious seconds that Yang held him, them both tucked neatly against each other, how safe it felt, knowing the darker one would protect him.
Knowing nothing shall harm him, when they are together.
How secure….. It had been long since that precious moment, long since Yang and pulled Ying into that embrace- a hug.
They tucked his legs to chest, nervous and shivering, tail coiled against his chest, the only dark thing on him he could see and hold. He wanted things better, not so hard and bad….. Yang made that loud shriek again, a ripped shredded sound, and Ying whined, and curled up tighter.
He could feel the prickles on his back, almost like the scales risen on the mean-cause-ouchy-lady’s back, as frost bloomed along the walls and floors and ceiling, curling into a frost blanket around Ying's smaller body. He felt the large ice prism spikes stretch out, a dangerous warning for anyone that entered, posed to pounce and extend to thrust through one's chest the second the door opened.
Ying sniffed, softly closing their eyes, in the centre of the ice and frost and spikes, and listened.
And waited. For how long?
Ying themselves didn’t know anymore.
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