Story Lala's Collection of Writings

[Zaruslala]

"The time for the feast has come again."

Yue recalled hearing her master murmuring that line the night before, when she delivered yet another terribly expensive bottle of liquor for his drunken majesty. The thick scent of alcohol assaulted her nostrils as she opened the folding door, making her instinctively raise her head in a futile attempt to suppress a gag reflex.The iridescent silks draped above immediately captured her attention, swaying in a slow, rhythmic motion from the vaulted wooden beams, tempting her to abandon her duties and stare at them for the rest of the night, perhaps even for eternity. But reality was harsh, and the abrupt sound of a crashing bottle yanked her back.

Her master lounged at the other end of the room, where the folding doors had been drawn back entirely to reveal the majestic view of the mountain outside. The full moon hung solitarily in the sky, a giant ball of silvery majesty washing its cold light into the darkened room, making it easy for her to notice the stacks of empty liquor bottles carelessly strewn on the leftmost side of the room. He acknowledged Yue’s intrusion with a mere swish of his palm, without ever glancing at her, mutely staring at the distant scenery as if waiting for something.

---

 

[Zaruslala]

I hunger for glimpses of love like one hungers for sustenance, drowning myself in a lake of illusions and pathetic make-believe, licking cherries on the edge of a knife and saying thank you anyway, my tongue bleeding. All to wrap myself in a net of self-restraint, where all the threads are paper and breakable upon contact. But it’s abundant anyway, so it does slow my fall as I gasp for air and try helplessly to regain my balance.

 

[Zaruslala]

“And what you must do?”

With the last breath of its life, a crimson leaf drifted slowly from the branches above, descending to the waiting embrace of still water below, its base a pool of dark water as still as the eyes that had been watching from beneath the sculpted beams of lacquered red. Fingers of light filtered through the mist hanging low in the air, both a refreshing blessing and a constricting prison, holding captive the lungs of Suzuran as she meticulously counted the pace of her breathing in the face of Lord X ‘enlightening’ teachings.

It was almost amusing how swiftly the season had turned, how quickly fortunes had changed. Before the Revolution, he would haven’t found the courage to rise up from his bows, keeping himself prostrated and low long after he was dismissed–a mere dog begging for scraps at her mother’s banquet table. Now, those days existed only in her idle musings, desperate attempts to salvage scraps of nostalgia from romanticized memories, as hazy as they might be. She gently captured her attention back to the present, ensuring her face remained a mask of a studious student, concerned and interested.

Her gaze stayed down in a gesture of respect even as she spoke, “Uphold the name of the F_____”.

Lord X fancy himself a kingmaker, dreaming of the old times and promises of something that would almost never come by. It is apparent in the way he paced around the gazebo, hands behind his waist. She entertained his dreams, because she, too, pathetically dreamt of something similar.

“Alright, you may go. Please keep this in mind as you attend the _________”.

She got up from her seat and fluidly bowed herself, one for a student to a respected teacher. Any other form would not do for someone of her stature no matter how empty the title is. Suzuran watched his back as his figure slowly disappear beneath the hazy mist.

 

[Zaruslala]

Walls upon walls of mist blurred Sejal’s vision as her lungs filled with the scent of petrichor and rotting leaves. Dread started to pump through her veins once she noticed the absence of sound in her immediate surrounding, her guard raised on instinct as the familiar sense of danger triggered a buried memory. Her brass anklets softly clinked with each cautious step forward, placing one foot deliberately in front of the other as she blindly navigated the terrain in a straight line . Whether this was reality or the product of a fever dream, the crisp vividness of sensations made it hard to distinguish. The skin of her feet felt the sting of the ground's foreign kiss, cold and slippery, accompanied by the slight crunch beneath from what she suspected to be dead leaves.

A red scarf trailed from her ring finger as she raised her arms, poised to strike at dangers or defend her head if necessary. She glanced around warily.

 

[Zaruslala]

Suzuran stood atop the highest point of a burning palace, her grand attire fluttering in the air like the hungry tongues of the inferno below. Trails of dried tears carved a path down her ash-laden face as her eyes reflected the devastation of the once-grand city. Stars adorned the sky beyond her reach, twinkling with a mocking glee as if showing their appreciation for a good show. And what could they do but watch? Suzuran herself could do nothing, for her power did not lie in summoning rain clouds or diverting rivers.

The palace was located right in the heart of the city, separated by criss crossing rivers crossed by two large, sturdy bridges. Her location granted her a bird's-eye view of her surroundings, and it was clear that the so-called ‘revolutionaries' had executed their plan with meticulous precision. One of the bridges, now engulfed in crimson flames, stood precariously, its imminent collapse a dire warning to any who might dare to cross. The other bridge had been seized entirely by the insurgents, effectively trapping anyone within the palace walls.

“The Hell of X,” survivors later nicknamed it, for the metropolis was a densely packed labyrinth of wooden houses, standing so close that the fire leapt from one to the next with glee. And where would you go for salvation when the very streets are burning red? Those who managed to escape the fire faced another kind of peril: the wrath and scrutiny of the posse. The tide of revolution had swept the populace right off their feet, feeding them a frenzy illusion of grandeur and righteousness rivaled those of saints, granting them the right to butcher and ransack and violate. They laugh when the–

 

[Zaruslala]

It was near midnight when Lacie finally went home, the sole of her beat-up combat boots squeakily made its way back to the fifteenth floor of the apartment after a Sunday spent well-done. The smell of the hallway was acrid, reminding her of piss and excrement, with a tang of rotting metal from exposed pipes and god only knows what. The elevator was even worse, and Lacie would have abandoned it for the emergency stairs if the place wasn’t off-limits after 10 pm.

“Yes, yes, I’m on my way”, she sing-songed to the phone, steps walking out the elevator down to the dimly lit hallway, the rubber sole noisy in a stark contrast with the silence. “Don’t fall asleep yet”

Her family unit was located at the far end of the leftmost hallway, tucked behind a sharp turn next to the door to the emergency exit. Her brother was on shift tonight, so he should still be awake, running the makeshift barbershop in their unit. It was nothing glamorous; just a small rectangular space, partitioned from the rest of the room with boards, only fit for two swivel chairs and little else. Some of his friends would often mill around until well past midnight, partaking in shady business in the stairs or just talking until the morning came.

With how thin the walls here, the sound of other units and the noise in the hall practically bled into the inside of their unit. It used to bother her endlessly when she was trying to sleep, but her mom romantically said that it’s merely the “sound of humanity”. Lacie personally thinks that it’s just the sound of chaos, of gibbering trash. Lately, she has came to terms with it.

That’s why, her steps come to a halt.

It was too silent.

Lacie looked around, unease started to crept in as she drank the stillness of her surroundings. Gripping her phone tight in her hand, she backs slowly and turns her head to the elevator, checking the floor sign to make sure that she’s at the right place. The big, black sign displayed “15” in bold letters, as if mocking her, taunting her to figure out the situation.