Published: Mar. 2, 2022.
This is peace, Sochie supposes, and it courses through her veins like poisonous adrenaline, rankles her until she wants to scream.
sochie's part in turn a's ending montage refuses to leave my mind. i really like her.
title taken from the lyrics of bad sun by the bravery.
The house is quiet these days. How unsurprising. Father can scarcely muster a shout with a throat held stiff by rigor mortis, with lips composed of decaying flesh. Mother only murmurs to herself, lost in a darling reverie of the past. Kihel kissed each of their foreheads, Mother and Sochie both, before abandoning them to reside far, far, far away. Loran held Sochie's face in his hands, kissed her, and now she knows him only as letters she rips apart and pieces back together.
This is peace, Sochie supposes, and it courses through her veins like poisonous adrenaline, rankles her until she wants to scream. Sometimes, she marches out the back and pitches rocks at the trees. Impact marks litter the bark, wounds deepening with each time she reaches for a stone. There's no one around to question why the youngest daughter of the Heim family is throwing a tantrum, so what does it matter if she beats her boot heel into the bark until her chest heaves and she can grasp a semblance of control.
Beams of scorching light do not rain from the sky. Strange dolls wrought of metal do not menace her home, her family, her life. Technology from a darker age does not devour the night sky with radioactive illumination.
The war is over.
This is peace. She knows it's wrong to resent it, but--
The house is so terribly quiet these days.