Archive of Our Own

“Michelle! Where the heck are you going?”

The young lady stopped in place, as if she'd been frozen in place.
Struck by the megaphone pressure of Elijah's voice, Michelle whirled around... Slowly.
It was way too slow, and Elijah kept tapping her foot against the floor.

“I, ehmn, ermn...”

“Oh, u-em-erm! I getcha! Now spill it!”

Perhaps if you had picked apart Michelle, dissected her mind with careful precision, you might have been isolate something awfully like hatred.
If that was present at all however, she had neither the courage nor the desire to show it.

It might have looked more pathetic to someone who didn't much care, as Elijah skipped over, labcoat breezily trailing behind her.

“The, see, the thing is, I – I'm being blackmailed...”

Elijah's giggling, squealing laughter made it clear that even if that had been the truth, she wouldn't have believed it.
Michelle shook in place, and stared intently at the floor.

“Oh, I s-e-e. Blackmail... Wow, we really have made it, huh?! Neat. I don't condone skipping out early!”

The last few words were delivered with all the force of a hurricane, and Michelle pulled herself inward, as if closing her labcoat around the ratty dress she wore would make the moment end more quickly.
And slowly, Elijah brought her fingers to her chin, lost in thought.

She suddenly snapped her fingers, and then let out a tiny 'gah!' as her pen slipped through her grasp, scattering to the floor.

Michelle considered making a break for it, but simply didn't have the courage.

“... But y'know, you can't just work hard and have no time to yourself. So I guess it's okay this once!”

The dull look in Michelle's eyes faded, as she realised she'd been given a chance.
She – didn't know how to react, didn't what to do, and didn't know what to say at all.
The feeling twisted and burned in the pit of her stomach, and all she could finally manage was:

“T, thanks.”

But Elijah had a cunning smile.

“It's cold out there, though. And like, what are you even wearing? Waitrighthere!”

Which is how she'd found herself borrowing that coat.

"I'm not used to being kept waiting."

Garion'd been walking on railings when Michelle had finally shown up, wearing a fancy (synthesised) fur coat that was entirely too large for her.
It made her shoulders seem like they caved inwards, and her head was floating above pale clouds.
Garion's brief shock made it clear she found it an interesting choice, and one that didn't really suit her, but...

"You know, I'm not used to people dressing up for me, either."

"T, t, thiswasn'tmyfault!"

A moment died.
Garion's eyebrow, raised so delicately, indicated a thousand different questions.
She always had questions, however; she started with one.

"Calling me, or - "

"The jacket, ugh. Sorry. I mean to say that, uhmn. My, c-coworker lent it to me. So that I wouldn't be cold, I guess. It's not what I would have worn! I'm not really, you know..."

"No, I don't know. When someone says something like that, it's impossible to tell what they mean. Could you be specific, perhaps?"

Michelle scratched at the back of her hand, and grit her teeth.
She seemed to think that Garion's inquisitive expression hid some hidden hatred, perhaps because her own could, from time to time.
But she relented, the overlarge white sleeves falling back like fluffy waterfalls as she lowered her hands.

"Everything."

Garion's featureless neutrality was the careful response of someone used to setting the scene.
Being an arbiter meant understanding control, and the appearance of control.

She'd suggested - commanded? - that they meet somewhere different. Instead of the Outskirts, or an Association-controlled area, the subdistrict of this Nest was semi-residential, with rows of outwardly pretty houses that denizens of the Backstreets might have killed over... Or died for. The railings Garion was balancing upon without a care in the world had once bordered an artificial river, or water feature; but the area had apparently fallen out of favour with some comptroller or whatever corporate syndicate provided the area with services.

Now, the riverbed was dry, and the cold air made it feel as if it'd frozen in place, and been spirited away.

"I'm weak."

Michelle whispered.

"When someone gives me attention, I feel like I can do anything. Then, I realise I can't. So, listen."

Garion said nothing, but hopped down from the rails; her cape making a soft flutter, as she did.
And she listened; she always listened.

"Suddenly, I realised that I was doing well. Me, in my own life. And I - I wanted that to continue."

Michelle winced in place, expecting Garion to interject with something. When nothing came, no snide comment or question, she realised it wouldn't arrive until she'd finished, went far redder than the cold air might suggest, and spoke as quickly as she could... Being a little glad for Garion's tall shadow.

"I thought it'd be enough to strike on my own, but it absolutely isn't. And I suddenly realised there were people, real people who I'd be hurting! And, then, then, then... I suddenly realised nothing is making me happy. It's not enough."

She thrust her hands into the pockets of the abominably overlarge coat. Elijah had kept all sorts of 'secret weapons' in there.
Rather than beauty products, fashion magazines, or spare pencils (you could never be sure with Elijah), there were... What felt like melted hard candies.
All of it made her want to laugh, and yet she felt like she couldn't laugh.

"You understand that I could kill you."

Garion said, politely.
Like it was a courtesy.

"But would you?"

Michelle shot back, surprising herself.
... She... Didn't hate that smile.

"Of course not. That's your leverage."

"My - Well, I don't want to use it! I just - I hate... All of this..."

Her voice rose, and fell.
Garion made an indistinct sound, something low and thoughtful.
The contralto husk of her voice seemed to hang in the air, before she spoke.

"I hope it's all right if I steal you away, for awhile."

"Yeah. I - did good, today. Better than I'd expected. It's fine."

The thing was, it wasn't fine at all.
Every step they took was a little bit more of a drain on her, on what she wanted to say, and how she felt.
But - even with that being the case, she did feel...

All the cold air was somewhat artificial, too.
This point in 'summer,' forced air machines carried heating/cooling from wind tunnels beneath the surface, and whirled it aggressively into the settled areas.
It was supposed to make the place feel climate-controlled at all times, but only the Wings really had that luxury... Probably.

"Why haven't you run away, yet?"

"Huh?"

Michelle asked, blinking a few times before responding. She could feel her untameable hair swaying, that stupid single cowlick making her look - even more childish...
But Garion wasn't staring at that. Her piercing eyes were staring right into hers, waiting for a response.

"I don't want to."

She replied, hesitantly at first.

"I want a lot of things, right? But now, here's something I don't want. You don't wake up and plan on - killing a bunch of fixers, do you?"

Although she meant it as a joke, she makes an ugly half-laughing sound as she looks up to see Garion calmly sipping on that teacup-from-nowhere, the one that she can just flip into existence as calmly as if it were something anyone might do.
She wanted to hate herself for the sound, but, Garion's slight smile is captivating. Reassuring, even when she responds:

"Oh, of course I do, sometimes. Other days, I'd rather not."

Michelle paused in place; okay, wrong question -

"But the end result is always the same. Whether or not I enjoy it means nothing. I, who I am, will always remain constant."

She paused, too, lips poised softly at the brim of the cup.
Hating that she feels envious of a, a, teacup, Michelle tries to gather thoughts that won't answer.

"When you are strong, everyone knows you by sight, and you would kill for a moment's loneliness."

Around their feet, the chemically-kept grass of summer shimmered and waved, a dull greenish-brown.
There was a terrible pressure to it, to the air; Michelle felt as if she might fall into it and be devoured, and know nothing but the memory of grass.
Maybe it wouldn't suck to be a plant; maybe you wouldn't have to - feel so much...

"I could never imagine that."

The sentence is the only one she could manage, and Garion nods.

"That makes me happy. A little cautious, too. I'd hate to use you up too quickly..."

"Oh, you're planning on using me up? And what then, throwing me away?"

"I'd rather not."

Crossing the riverbed, she found herself playing those three words over and over in her head.
Regret sometimes found the air as cold as the fake breeze in this fake world they all shared; around Garion, it chilled. It clung to the back of your head and wouldn't let go...
Or maybe Garion only allowed it, expressed it around her. Which was - frightening, and sad.

The ground was dry, and a long tunnel, originally designed for the first generation of climate-control, beckoned.

She would have never gone through it on her own, but...
Unsure if she was leading Garion on, or the reverse, she beckoned - and Garion was a tower of black and gold, following silently.

It was there, just under the city, that she heard it - a soft whimper.

"Oh, oh..."

Michelle let go of the hand she'd found instantly the moment she was guaranteed privacy, and ran towards the dog.
It was old, and dark-furred, black that had patches of silver.

And it was bleeding heavily from the wounds that were interspersed by the occasional crack of boots against skin.

"You fuckers let that go, right now!"

Is what she'd meant to yell.
But she was still a fuck-up, who was fated to fail.

Michelle tripped in a puddle of gray water, catching herself on her overly large coat. She barely managed to avoid falling, and mumbled something like:

"FuuUuck, oooo! Rightnow!"

That elicited a nasty chuckle from one of the three - kids, they were practically kids - that was hunched over the dog.
One was taking video on a small personal console. All of them were clearly from the Nests; it was a day out, a way to kill time.

"Uh-huh, and what are you gonna do?"

Said one, speaking through his broken tooth.

"I'll, she can - mess you up..."

The chill hit her before she'd finished speaking, and she instantly knew.

"You dense? You and who?"

Garion was gone.

A pained squeak escaped her lips as she took a step back. Her whole body was shivering; without thinking, she was tearing up. She couldn't control it, it just happened...

... The dog was staring at her. It was just a stupid dog, probably. Maybe it was already dead, and she was - reading into it.
She'd never had a dog, or a pet, really. It had big - big stupid rheumy eyes, like they'd been sewn on.
And it was bleeding, so bad.

And the only hero it got was her.

F, fuck, everything...

She nearly tripped as she ripped off her shoe, and flung it forward with as much force as she could manage.
It was not a lot of force; it made a soft sound as it struck one of the teenagers. He didn't wince, or try to dodge.
He cracked his neck, then

thenthenthenthen

"Hmn."

Garion said, non-chalantly, as there was no sound at all.
The three of them were there, one second, and they weren't. But she saw. She saw.
The horrible, pained looks on their faces, the moment they fell inside themselves, their limbs twisted at all manner of angles, extended and wrong.
And then they were gone, forever.

"I, where, you..."

Michelle squeaked, and then quickly added,

"Are they dead?!"

"I think they probably wish as much."

Garion said, and her smile was a weapon.

Perhaps it was the first time she realised, truly realised, truly understood that to this person, this monster, life was barely a consideration.
Something you could snuff out with a wave your hand, if you liked. Someone who, under no circumstance, should be challenged.
Could be challenged.

Michelle ran up, and yelled in the darkened tunnel.

"How could you DO that? They didn't deserve to, to die, and I could have been killed, and - "

"Shouldn't you reverse those? Your life is objectively more important."

"By whose metric?!"

"Mine."

She was joking.
Right after killing - or, or worse than that, three people who were just gone...
Michelle hated it. Hated every part of it. Hated that, some part of her, a part of her that was burning like a long-dormant fire...

"I don't care."

She whispered.

"I'll... I want to be the sort of person..."

"That fights for stray dogs?"

oh.
She remembered her reasoning, and sheepishly glanced through the darkness.
The stray was loping towards her, weekly.
It brushed it's head up against her, like what she'd expect of a cat, more than a dog.

Most people had artificial pets, these days. Pet food wasn't cheap, but synthesising pets would've been a pretty penny, uhmn...
Lesse...

"Good girl..."

She whispered, and moved to pet the dog's head; wincing, it drew back, and she quickly moved her fingers towards it's stomach, instead.
It rolled over, trembling in pain at first - but breathing more softly as she gave it a soft pat.

"That's disappointing of you."

Garion commented, though her tone held no judgment at all.

"F... Fuck you..."

Michelle whispered, hating this stupid coat, and the - weight of it all.

"You aren't strong enough to care for something else, you know. It'll start to depend on you. For food, for care, for affection."

She wanted to close her ears, but Garion just kept talking - calmly, without any apparent emotion at all.

"And you'll get tired of it. Of caring for it. Of feeding it. Of it doing what it pleases, on animal logic."

Michelle knelt down, and just focused her fingers on the soft stomach of the dog. She was still in a lot of pain, but - there was probably a corporate hospital around, and they probably knew how to take care of dogs, or something, right...

"Eventually, you're going to get rid of it."

"I won't."

Michelle said, firmly, her head turned to the side, to the distant daylight at the end of the tunnel.
When she turned back, Garion had vanished again.
... Screaming without sound, at everything, for everything, she steeled herself and took her new dog carefully under two arms (wondering how she'd explain the muck stains to Elijah).

There was a soft 'pop' behind her as three horrified people might have appeared from somewhere, shaking and writhing.
She could be a bit like her. She didn't waste a look back towards them.

It took three days for her dog to come back.

Michelle's apartment was located in a fine spot, overlooking smaller, lesser apartments. It was the sort of view that Nest-dwellers might kill for, maybe with more passion than those poor souls stuck in the Backstreets.
She disliked it; it had been cheap, because of a murder or something, and she'd been able to afford it when she wasn't sure if Carmen's promises would be enough.

"Byeol, don't be mean..."

She begged.

All Byeol did was lay on furniture, pant, and occasionally eat things.
... Which was fine. Better than fine.

Every day she came back, Byeol's scarred eyes would watch her come in, and make no assumptions.
She'd occasionally roll over and just kind of snore-without-snoring. She'd been worried it might be a breathing problem at first, but it was an age of miracles... Her stray was in surprisingly good health.
And, very rarely, she'd wander over and nuzzle her legs while she was writing papers for review.

But she also disliked strangers, and distrusted them instantly.
... Michelle kind of liked that, too. Thought it was better than fine.
Except this once.

Garion was standing behind the mirrored, shadowed glass of the door. She was waiting very patiently, but had - as ever - arrived at the worst possible time, without any forewarning.
Hurriedly throwing a blue sweater over pink polka-dotted pajamas, she stomped over to the front door and tried to look - angry, but, well...

"Hmn."

Said Garion.
No, her voice was not neutrality personified, free of judgment.
A particularly unkind smirk was gracing her lips.

"I can come back."

"You better not! Leave, I - get inside..."

Fighting the urge to cry, and knowing how she must have looked, Michelle beckoned and was relieved when Garion stepped inside, not caring that it was the first time in her apartment.
... Her eyes scanned everything, carefully. Almost - almost cautiously.

Michelle fought a moment's sympathy. She was supposed to be angry, would be angry.

"You vanished! You can't, I - "

"I simply made a bet with myself. I haven't decided that I was wrong yet. I'll apologise if I was... ah..!"

(Gently) prodding Byeol out of the way with her toe, Garion eased into a cheaply-made, mass-produced soft chair. The kind that was filled with beanbags or barley or - or something like that.
She looked - happier than Michelle had ever seen her, and once more she found herself stupidly jealous of a stupid chair that she was going to throw out later.
But, on the other hand...

She was wearing a very old-looking, plain brown suit. The kind that very junior association thugs might wear. It didn't look, er, bad on her, and Michelle decided to look at something like Byeol, wandering over serenely to her dog-bed...
But it was unusual, and she didn't think it was - entirely for her, it wasn't like she cared much, about fashion -

"Don't you think it would be terrible if someone decide an arbiter was visiting you?"

Garion said.
Again, her tone was cruel. Like - why? What was she supposed to say?
That she was scared some toughs would come in here and kill here because of the audacity of k, knowing someone like Garion?
Her fists clenched. She absolutely hated that she was clenching her fists in embarrassing pajamas, but...

"I. Don't. Care. I missed you."

The chair creaked as Garion sort of - rolled into it, trying to find some mythical perfect position to relax in.
An idea struck her suddenly, and Michelle - somewhat cautiously approached.

"You're the type that gives away backrubs too freely, aren't you..."

Garion mumbled, a little wistfully, and Michelle decided that she liked this new weapon, this terrible hidden power.
Well, er, no that hidden.

"Y, yeah..."

"Oh, well. I guess I can forgive you."

"You?! You should be begging for my forgiveness!"

The tears were coming again, and she angrily sniffed them back.
... A few seconds, she gave in, and joined Garion in the (terribly comfortable) chair.

"I see you got rid of that coat."

"Returned it. Elijah - was happy I'd gotten some use out of it?"

"Mmn. Will you be happy when you've killed her?"

"No. I'm not gonna."

She curled her arms around her knees.
Garion - cautiously leaned against her side. Her dark hair was soft, and kind of silky. Michelle wanted to say something, but knew she'd just flub her words.
She kept quiet, and waited.
Listened, perhaps.

"... I'm not going to force you into it, but you should understand that you are of no importance. That if the Head desires something, it has already happened."

"Everyone knows that."

"But I'm quite happy. You're a very strong woman."

"Why - By what logic?"

"Mine."

The discussion was closed. Michelle wanted to scream, but - lately, she'd been finding the impulse to lash out at herself a bit less fierce, a bit less overwhelming.
She'd been enjoying work, recently.
... She said as much.

"I'm glad. I suppose I can say the same."

But.
Garion hesitated, made it clear she was hesitating.
Not to suggest anything... But to leave it open.

Above them, the ceiling fan idly kicked up dust and spun tiny woven charms around the room.
They were the cheapest type she could find, made of imitation gold and silver thread. But - she liked them, felt they added to the room, made it her own.

"I... You're not just gonna show up like this, are you?"

"Didn't I warn you?"

"Huh - no, nevermind. It's just - I wanted to... To go on dates..."

"with an arbiter."

Garion's incredulousness was palpable.
Michelle couldn't give a - a rat's ass about that, though! Her fist, diminutive though it might have been, ground into her palm.

"Of course! And, if you're just gonna... Show up, and leave, that's - not enough, for me..."

"..."

Normal people don't answer with spoken silences, but nothing about this was normal.
This wasn't even a - a relationship, not really. They each took things from it, that they needed, and -
oh, fuck, it was a relationship

"You're incredibly greedy. I dislike that."

Garion opined, straightening her collar. Irritably, Michelle reached over to stop her for - for some reason -

The world froze.
She hadn't meant to clamber over Garion, and maybe she hadn't been expecting it either.
Her fingers fell to a stop on dark brown fabric. She was keenly aware of how small they looked.

"I - "

Managed Garion, and she didn't care what she'd been about to say.

Her lips were so incredibly soft, and her hair smelled pleasant. She inhaled the moment Michelle drew near, and cradled her, almost awkwardly.
Feeling as if her heart might burst, Michelle clung to her, and -

"ah, fuck - "

Garion pulled back, wincing. For the first time, her expression held no enigma at all; a look of surprise and bemusement mixing crossing her face.

"sorrysorrysorry i dont know why i did that, i"

"You bit me."

"I... I just wanted, in the moment..."

"You're new at this..?"

She wasn't, of course.
Which was quite the problem.
Michelle's mind flooded with a million things that she wanted to say, had to say, absolutely had to say -

Garion rose from the chair, her usual hunching posture changing as she stretched from shoulder to her shoulder.
Her fingers traced a path across her lips, and it was like the small indentation, the tiny ruddy stain, it had never existed.

Was that all her life was worth, to her..?

"I just wanted you. And I get attached to people. And - "

She knelt down and hugged Byeol, but her eyes never left Garion.
Her tall figure was obscured by the darkness of the night, and Garion was watching the fan circle, expression all but unreadable.
Finally, she managed to answer.

"I understand."

And how amazing it was, the way the tiniest sound, the little ring of clasps, all of it could be as loud as thunder.

The next day had been important, probably. She'd marked it down as a day she'd take for herself, just for herself.
A day she was going to use to - understand Garion. Make her see things her way. Even (maybe) make her apologise, and if things went really well, make her beg for a simple shard of Michelle's (infinite) forgiveness.

... Her hair was all over the place.
That stupid spot she'd never been able to intimidate into place with a brush or her fingers... It was like it'd multipled, like there was nothing but errant strands, sticking up into every direction.
Also, hrmn... Her entire body, kind of...

Ignoring the numerous small red circles and - other things, Garion had all but forced her off of the bed. She slept at a weird angle that made her posture even more shitty, and Michelle seethed that she hated it even more when you considered the fact that bad posture, while lying down, should be impossible. And she also hated the fact that Garion was clearly awake, one eye open, and watching her with a very thin smirk.

"Good - "

"Don't you 'good morning' me..."

Michelle tried to sound angry, while hiking up pajamas. Then, she realised it was morning, sobbed an ugly sob, and sprinted towards her drawer.

"I wonder, is she like this every morning..."

She could hear Garion whispering towards Byeol, who - like a little traitor - had hopped the bed and was just sitting there, making that weird snoring noise.

"I, work, I've gottogo..."

"You're fine. Or rather, if you leave right now - "

"Don't make threats while you're naked. I'll never be able to take you seriously."

The silence stretched on for hours, or possibly seconds.

"I'm not sure how I feel, getting good advice from you. It's pleasant. Keep it up. I believe in you."

The last sentence was punctuated by Garion (gently) seizing Byeol's paw, and waving it a bit - in Michelle's general direction.

... Her expression in the mirror looked as (wonderfully) awful as she felt. Okay, taking stock - her whole body felt sore, and Garion's revenge was probably impossible to hide.
Hmn -

"Can you do that swishy thing - "

"No."

"Grr..."

- but on the other hand, it had not gone too terribly. She hadn't - woken up wanting to cry, or feeling like she'd been punished just for existing. The pain was different, something she'd chosen, right.
And maybe that didn't make it better, she needed to get a mattress that didn't tear into her back... Oh.
Next month's salary wouldn't come.

... Haha, hahaha...

In the mirror, her cheeks had been red; a happy red. It slowly faded away.
Her reflection had been smiling; and the smile sapped away, ate itself up. She'd gotten greedy again, after all.
Even though her fingers didn't shake as she touched the mirror, nothing changed when she placed palm to palm.

"Michelle?"

"It never works out, does it?"

She could see her, reflected in the distant edge of the mirror.
Looking so regal, propped up against her palm.
And - she was strong, and beautiful, and the sort of person she absolutely could have fallen for.
Had, had maybe...

And that beautiful woman, with the infinitely sad smile, replied with a single word.

"No."

One day, before a certain event happened.

She'd gone and asked if her mother would mind looking after Byeol, for awhile.
Because a real pet was a prestige animal, Byeol would be fine - for awhile, at least.
Her parents wouldn't understand that they were fine - for awhile, at least.
And if things went well, there was no worry at all, and awhile could become the future.

The day before had been a simple thing; a promise.
Despite all the things she wanted, most of them were entirely unattainable - and, and, if she were honest...

Maybe they didn't matter. Maybe she'd even learned that from - from someone.

She'd chosen the place.
Garion hadn't protested.
And as they walked around the civic forest, with it's sponsorship notices promoting various corporate donators, arm in arm, she felt -

Satisfied?
Empty..?

No.

it was as if a tiny fire that she'd put to rest herself, the on that had woken up and demanded it be paid attention to was now roaring.
listen, it said; i am here, and i am afraid of the dark.
please.

do not let me die, again.

But she'd always known it existed, and had resented it for stealing the part of her that was just fine with being - content.
Not happy, but content. Not envious, content. Anything - but, but scared, and sad...

Her fingers were smoother than she'd expected. For some reason, in her mind, Michelle had expected that being an arbiter meant a lot of callouses, or - or something.
She wouldn't have minded, but they still felt so soft, when they dried her tears.

"I wouldn't have chosen a spot like this for a date."

Garion said, wistfully...
But not unhappily.

People hid litter, here. There was no point; almost anything could be reduced and turned into pallets of cheap 'auxillary' energy.
People just did it because they were cruel, or thoughtless.
Perhaps the two were one and the same.

"Yeah, you would've - wouldn't have chosen anywhere at all, would you..?"

"I would have tried to think of something you'd like, or something new to you. I expect you to latch onto new things. I wouldn't mind if we get the chance to do just that."

For Garion, it was easy to write this off as necessary, and a success.
Her view of things was so simple, so awful.
It would happen, or it wouldn't.

There was no point in struggling.

And when she'd realised that same strong woman was still beholden to all the ugliness of the world, she'd wanted to scream up to the sky, but -

It was pointless, too.

"Okay. Promise me, then."

Michelle watched her breath fog on cold air that might have been warm, in a world where summer was summer.
Trees without branches beckoned, and she stared longingly at their limbs.

"When this is done, I want you to surprise me, every day. So that I don't get jealous of you, or anybody."

"Tsch, that's an awful lot to ask. I get tired, too."

"But I'm not even done asking, yet..."

"I'll promise it, though. If you're strong enough to meet me there."

She watched the branches sway, and dance.
She wanted to dance, too.

"What do you want?"

"For this to continue."

Garion's reply was as quiet as the wind, and carried away towards the heavens above.
Crying wouldn't change anything; but she'd never been able to control it, even a little.

"Okay. I'll be strong. And we'll definitely..."

she skidded across red-stained floors.
this was not what she imagined.

perhaps
all of the nightmares had been let out
to create the illusion of a counter-attack;
she had seen them all
and no longer felt
she had done anything wrong.

if she found an exit, she could hide.
if she found her, they could escape.
but she hadn't known
someone as small as her

could hold, so much

when she fell, clutching the red strips of her stomach
her jaw struck the ground
and michelle felt her mind shift
conjuring the smell of fresh rain
upon soil.

it was familiar.
like her.
she pulled it close
and she growled,
and cried.

but perhaps nobody heard her mournful howl;
for an arbiter's only job is to listen
and to carry out their duty
until the very end.