fading fast // cait

[Onyx]

“and i’ve lost all faith in this blurring light” monet ‘bone’ kelt - twenty six - district two The last time I smoked, I was nineteen years old, standing over the corpse of my five-year apprentice master behind the old taxidermy shop. I'd never realised, with the last three deaths I'd witnessed, how much a body can look prepared before us professionals had even touched it. Bloated and rigid, with opaque, glassy eyes and that not quite cold, not quite warm temperature that leaves a body on the edge of immortality. The cigarette was liberating and calming, rolled between my own previously shaky fingers, and gave me the time I needed to step back and work out a plan of action. When I panicked, really panicked, then, I found a cigarette helped me more than counting my collection ever could. Now, I smoke again. Downstairs two children are fighting in the ring, which usually I love to watch - but seeing Altair and Lear so deep in conversation together, being rejected by my own master and the man I feel so strongly for, sent me spiralling back into that anxiety that hasn't plagued me since the day Altair found me. I had to get out, to stop the voices in my head and the nightmare taking place in front of me. I came to the one place I always feel safe, where no life can disturb me. The child graveyard behind Melnont House. Here, I smoke in peace, settling my raging heart, and waiting for solace to return to me. I begin to regain my composure, once again fixing in place the mask over my affections, and preparing myself to return to my master's side.

Blitz post 2 // bone+tiltoo
© delusional

[Cait]

My eyes sting with the faint perfume of a lit cigar, carried along the wind. My heart carries the torture of a life of lies and stumbling over my own feet to earn my rightful place at the top. My hands hold a burden too great for any God to forgive me for.

The shovel is my Saviour – I am merely the dirt it is holding in place, balanced, poised, ready to be deposited at any moment, for who knows when He will decide I have performed one too many wrongs. Who knows when I will be left alone once again. Who knows where that will leave me.

The sick stench of smoke now fills the deep pit I have spent all night preparing. Soon it will be ready, and soon yet another unfortunate delinquent will find themselves lain to rest six feet underground. Such a shame they never see the care, the effort, the precision. Such a shame they can never appreciate my work. Such a shame. Plodding on through the night, the smoke slowly seeps into my lungs, and I cannot help but cough at the heavy fumes. They do not add fuel to the fire roaring inside of me – rather, the smoke dims it, and I feel my nerve slowly slipping away.

If the fucker wasn’t going to quit it, he’d be the one in this pit sooner or later. Hurling myself out of the deep hole, shovel in hand, I prepare a rough speech in my head. Smokers made me sick.

This paradigm, of course, is quickly altered when I see it is Bone sitting there, the faint speck of a glowing ember illuminating his face, giving himself away to the dark.

My nerve continues to fade, and the only thing I can do to keep it intact is to –

‘Hi, Bone.’

[Onyx]

“and i’ve lost all faith in this blurring light” monet ‘bone’ kelt - twenty six - district two Every muscle in my body tenses in spasms of fear as the all-too-casual "Hi, Bone," emerges from what I assumed to be an empty grave. For a split second, all I can think is that it's my brother, come back from the dead to hurt me once again, to take me back to the home I ran away from, to break me down, erode me, until I'm nothing but a pile of dust at his feet. I feel my pupils dilate and my breath catches. But then, as my eyes adjust once again to the twilight, a familiar face appears, seemingly floating above the child-sized pit in the ground. "Tiltoo," I breathe, relieved that the person calling me is so... docile. Taking one final drag, I drop the cigarette and grind it into the dirt. I know I'm disrespecting some poor dead child, but it doesn't even disturb me that I don't give two fucks. My boots scrape the dirt as I approach her, one, two, three long steps, and crouch by the side of the grave. She's so small that I could almost believe this grave was hers. I've never known someone so fragile - in the way that I don't know the children in the House. A grin spreads over my features as I think about it. Perhaps I'd need a trinket to remember this girl, too. With that idea, I can't help but ask, "do you ever think about how you're going to die?"

Blitz post 5 // bone+tiltoo
© delusional

[Cait]

The putrid stench lingers in the air long after the cigarette is put down. Ground into the dirt like it was nothing at all.

Yet I refused to believe Bone could be such a vicious, cruel person, even when everything he thought, did and said rebuked that very notion. The way he said my name in his husky, hoarse voice sent shivers down my spine, such an unpleasant sensation I would have gagged if I were anywhere else. He approaches the pit in simple strides, before he is looking down at me and I am looking up at him, searching his eyes for some light, some good – but above all, some sign he cares for me like I do him. Some sign I’m not just a petty little girl to him.

The search is fruitless, as usual, but this time the disappointment threatens to consume me whole.

It is a good thing he asks a question, and I am able to distract myself from what feels so disturbingly like rejection.

‘Do you ever think about how you’re going to die?

All the time. It is the very thing that haunts my dreams and makes my blood turn cold as an icy river. Even when I wish to escape my mind, I cannot help but question how I will die, when I will die, what will happen when I die.

I have to pray every day that I will not meet a terrible misfortune for the terrible sins I have committed, for the wrongs I refuse to make right.

But not even Bone can know of this weakness. Not even Bone – a man I love helplessly.

I consider my words carefully, taking a long pause to collect myself. The night air is freezing but I do not feel the sting of Winter. All I can feel is his gaze, penetrating me, and I cannot help but wonder if he sees straight into my mind, sees all of my horrible secrets.

‘No. I don’t. But I hope when I meet Death, He gives me something glamorous to go out with. Why? Do you?’

Fuck.

I begin my silent prayer to God, hoping to not be punished for the untruth I have told.

Hoping that Bone cannot see through the lie plastered across my face.

[Onyx]

“and i’ve lost all faith in this blurring light” monet ‘bone’ kelt - twenty six - district two Her lips are tight as she responds, and I can tell she's hiding some truth with this empty informality. It makes me laugh, one sharp exhalation to betray my amusement. I can't tell what she's really thinking, but I can see in her eyes that that's deliberation there - and fear. "Yes," I reply, thinking it unwise to reveal too much about myself but also a bad idea to play her for a fool, as she has me, "constantly." I crouch down on the balls of my feet, resting my arms on my knees and linking my fingers. A wind tickles the back of my neck and makes my hairs stand on end, and I suppress a shiver. How do I think I'm going to die? "I'll probably end up rotting in some cell somewhere, with you and Lear and Altair-" I swallow, even his name making my breath catch, "right there with me. Or, perhaps, I'll be crushed, when this rotting house finally collapses." I laugh, a third idea growing in my head, "or the day will come when the little ones get the better of us, and slit all our throats on their way to freedom." I look back at her too see how the honesty of my theories impacts her. She knows as well as I do that any of them are possible, nay, even probable. And how does she deal with that?

Blitz post 7 // bone+tiltoo
© delusional

[Cait]

It is a mind game that we play with each other, whether it subconscious or not. Cat and Mouse, where we chase each other ‘round and ‘round, waiting for the crack to appear in the other’s surface. Waiting to swoop in and tear the other down, though I am particularly generous with Bone.

His response is not the one I expected.

Bone, so heavily guarded with walls built so high, has created his own crack, yet I know he is no fool. Even if his confessions were not lies, he is always hiding something. I just wish I could be the one to discover his hidden demons.

Digging for treasure. It’s what I do best.

I can’t help but sympathise with Bone as his breath catches at Altiar’s name. A figure that dark and foreboding frightens even the bravest of us. But it is not the unspoken that draws me in – I do not take the time to investigate the true meanings behind his flaws in speech, for I am enticed by his words, a deadly truth to his inner thoughts.

Amongst his words, there is only one part I hear, replaying over and over in my head, a sickening melody of nightmarish figures.

‘…when the little ones get the better of us…’

I see them crawling from beneath the dirt, clawing their way out with chewed nail beds and criss-crossing scars across their hands. Dead souls, dead children, that I have killed. They reach for me, hungry for my flesh, a harmonious word buzzing all around me.

‘Tiltoo.’

I cannot help but falter slightly within the pit as reality greets me once again.

Death is terrifying.

‘I guess they could all occur.’ I swallow hard before continuing. ‘But you forgot the fourth option.’

[Onyx]

“and i’ve lost all faith in this blurring light” monet ‘bone’ kelt - twenty six - district two She has lost herself, drowning in imagination, and I don't know if I can play harness and bring her back. There's a dazed look on her face - she's terrified, by what I've said? All I did was confess the truth - not my deepest fears, but the most rational. "I guess they could all occur," she begins, and her voice quivers (she's weak and timid and defenseless, and I'm a predator and I notice that), "but you forgot the fourth option." I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. Surely there is no other option? Not one so real and potential, at least. "Please, enlighten me," I murmur, trying to keep the curiosity out of my words. She's a puzzling creature, that's for certain, and one I'm eager to understand.

Blitz post 10 // bone+tiltoo
© delusional

[Cait]

The nightmare does not make a reappearance, and I am certain my time of fear has passed, evaporated into thin air. It is too much to hope that Bone did not see, but I know him too well to fool myself with such lies.

He is a predator, and I am a monster. We see things so similarly, yet so differently.

The sense of identity I lost before our conversation has slowly built itself back up again. It is with this growing sense of familiar confidence that I find the strength to hoist the shovel onto the Earth high above me. Arms free, I am able to climb out of the ditch, and as I do so, my eyes do not leave Bone’s. As much as I could hope he would not take advantage of the weapon lain on the ground, there is never any way of knowing. I am playing with fire, a lone tree in the middle of a barren wasteland. Vulnerable.

Standing on solid ground, no dirt crumbling beneath my feet, I come to a halt in front of Bone. I am much shorter than him, and although he towers high over me in stature, I sense the uncertainty in his voice as he questions my statement. Perhaps I will have the upper hand this time. I look into his eyes, challenging him to meet my own and see the passion pulsing beneath my eyelids.

It takes a moment for the words to escape my mouth.

‘There’s always a fourth.’ Words are murmured slowly, hushed, barely audible above the howling wind. Yet I know he can hear me, and that is all that matters.

‘Let me paint you a story.’

‘We do our job well. You, me, Altiar, Lear. We are unbreakable, indestructible. Believe me when I say, nothing will stop us. Not this creaking house. Not the pathetic children.’

Unfortunately, there will come a time when we are too old to do our jobs anymore, and eventually, the only people to remain in this house will be the four of us. No more kids to torture. No more graves to dig. No more fights to endure. Just. Us.’

‘You don’t expect us to leave, do you? You wouldn’t think Altiar would be kind enough to send us on our way, do you?’

‘The answer is no. And one day, he will die, and Lear will die, and it will be just us.’

‘You see, perhaps there is a happy ending.’ I look Bone straight in the eye as I say my next words. ‘But you don’t believe in them, do you Bone? Neither do I. Eventually, the world will fade away, and we will be trapped.’

‘If I had to think of how I would want to die, it would be much more realistic than any of your disgusting theories.’

‘It would be my death by your hand, Bone. Perhaps yours by mine.’ I would never. ‘For the true deliverers of death are found within that which we treasure above all else. That is the fourth theory.’

And the truth is, it’s the most honest of them all.

[Onyx]

“and i’ve lost all faith in this blurring light” monet ‘bone’ kelt - twenty six - district two Even though Tiltoo is almost a whole head shorter than me, when she climbs slowly from the grave to stand in front of me I can't help but take a step back. Too close, girl, you're getting too close. She smells of decay and sweat, the peaty odours of her dishonest work. "Let me paint you a story," she whispers, and all I can do is stare as she unravels a theory so biting, so true, that I can't interrupt. "You see, perhaps there is a happy ending." The words are spoken with such gravity that it's difficult to believe her - and she picks up on that instantly, marking it out. She calls my ideas disgusting, which I want to smirk at, but her next sentence cuts me short. "It would be my death by your hand, Bone. Perhaps yours by mine." The way Tiltoo says my name, softly, hoarsely, makes my blood cold and my skin prickle. There's something in that word that I can't quite pick up. The most horrible thing about what she says - not the truth of it, nor the tone of voice - is what it inspires within me. What better way to die than at the hand of someone you know? I could never trust Tiltoo to keep me alive. But trust her to kill me, when the time came? Without a second thought. Quickly, I bring my hand up from my side and grab her by the throat. Almost lifting her on tiptoes, I allow my thumb and middle finger to press on the sides of her jaw. I can feel her heartbeat quicken in her jugular and she desperately tried to swallow, but the side of my hand against her throat impedes her. Bringing her face close to mine, I bear my teeth in a malicious smile and hold her gaze. "Death by your hand, Tiltoo?" Would there be anything more humiliating?  "I don't think you'd have it in you." I let go of her throat and she drops back to the ground. I should get back inside, before the fight ends and Altair questions my absence. But with the chill that has settled in my stomach, I don't know how well I'll be able to hold on my mask.

Blitz post 13 // bone+tiltoo
© delusional

[Cait]

The air is ripped from my lungs as a firm hand Death? clasps tightly around my throat, blocking my airways and forcing my heartbeat to quicken instinctively. I am hoisted into the air, my toes barely brushing the ground beneath me as I am suspended – hopeless, helpless and terrified.

Fear wasn’t something someone like me had the misfortune of experiencing too often in their lifetime. Perhaps that is why I am so shocked by the sudden change in setting, why am I taken so off-guard, and at the hand of no other than Bone.

He tilts my head and forces me to start into his cold eyes. Crystal clear, they paint a sad, yet mesmerising tale of pain and sorrow. His harsh words do not match the reflection I see in his eyes, and I am not fooled by the tough façade he assumes is flawless, unbroken. As I feel oxygen slowly slipping away, my mind and thoughts become foggy – yet I am still able to see how shaken he is by my words. He wouldn’t kill me.

At least not here. Not now. Not yet.

Would he?

As soon as the question enters my mind, it is disappearing just as quickly as I feel his grasp loosen ever so slightly. The fear of Death has passed, and I have avoided meeting Him, even if only for one more day. Sprawled across the ground, I take the time to gulp precious bursts of oxygen back into my system, desperately trying to regain my courage before he sees how vulnerable I truly am. Unfortunately, I am shaken beyond words, and all I can do is stare up at the monster man I hate love, pretending that I find him horrid and despicable.

His words, however, shake me to the bone.

‘I don't think you'd have it in you.’

For a moment, all is quiet. Trees softly rustle in the breeze, and the pitch-black of night creeps into the freshly dug grave. My mind has become a blank chalkboard, spotless, no trace of the coloured chalk markings lining the slate. Yet something inside of me is telling me to ‘stand stand stand’ and urging me to ‘walk walk walk’ before finally commanding me to ‘lunge lunge lunge.’

So I do.

The mysterious figure standing in front of me is no longer Bone, but merely an unsuspecting child who is not yet wise enough to fear the name Tiltoo Deltri. I pounce, taking hold of my prey - only this time, I do not perform the special trick to make the innocent fall unconscious. He should be allowed to witness this rarity. Instead, I am dragging him down down down into the pit I have spent so long tonight perfecting. It will be ruined from the struggle, and the edges will surely collapse slightly.

But some things are worth being broken for.

I let the darkness and quiet briefly consume me again, before throwing Bone off of me and leaping back out of the grave. The shovel lies motionless a few metres away, and I pounce on it, as if I am afraid it will evaporate into thin air if I abandon it even a minute longer.

‘Do you know what it’s like? Doing my job?’

The shovel in my hand – an old friend – has never let me down before. Yet in the moment, it feels painfully heavy, and I cannot help but return it to its position on the dusty ground below me.

‘No, of course not. You just follow Altiar around like his little pet, like the mongrel you are. You don’t have to venture outside of the safety of Melnont House to find more wretched souls whose childhoods are to be snatched away. You don’t have to spend countless hours preparing a grave, only to fill it back up again when the time has come. You don’t have to do your job perfectly in every possible way out of fear of the horrible things that might happen if even a crumb of dust is out of place. You don’t have to live with the guilt I do, or feel the only person you care about slip away with each day that passes. You don’t know what it’s like to sit by your window each morning, begging the Sun not to rise today, so that you don’t have to face another day trapped here.’

Although I am just beginning to start, already, I have said too much.

I turn my back on the hole, forgetting the shovel, and begin to stride away. The tears on my cheeks are hot and I hate myself for allowing them to slip from my eyes. Bone did not share the same petite structure that I did – it would take him a while to find his way out of such a deep pit. The thought gives me some satisfaction, yet I cannot even fake a smile to plaster to my face. The momentary satisfaction of standing up to Bone has subsided, and now all that remains is a feeling of unexplainable guilt, gnawing away at my insides. It is like nothing I have ever experienced, and I cannot help but conclude the reason is that I, Tiltoo, the girl who has never let anybody in, has already let Bone mean too much to me.

This brings me to my next train of thought. Bone’s words ring in my ears, and as the tears begin to dry, I consider the situation.

Would I ever be able to kill Bone? Although I had never killed anyone directly, it had always been I that had finished them off, burying them, ensuring they would never see the breaking light of dawn again.

Perhaps the real question is, could I ever kill anyone at all? Could cold, ruthless Tiltoo actually kill someone, if it came down to it?

I didn’t know.