(7 Translationism 6)
(The Time Has Come To Speak Of Many Things)
She was backed against a wall, a terrible writhing hand holding her above the floor by her throat. Oxygen hadn't been to her lungs in almost a minute now and yet Arienette was smiling.
Didn't this fool realize that she didn't fear death? She knew it was coming for her any moment and she couldn't wait. It would get her away from Seven and away from inside this house. Her father loved her and she loved him, so she allowed him to extend her young life a little more, but not because she wanted to live.
"You stupid little creature! Why'd you do it?! Suffer! Sssufferrr." It's voice sounded like it was operated by a crank machine and was as degraded as it's appearance.
His skin was as loose and folded as a moth eaten blanket and its fingernails had been torn out and replaced with chunks of rusted metal. His tongue lolled around, often attempting to moisturize his withered glass lips. And his nose was even pointier than story villains are told to be, but it was nothing compared to the razor sharp cheekbones and the cavernous rooms they created below them. His jaw was attached with hinges like accordions that folded and unfolded themselves to his voice and the eyelids were peeled and tacked open in opposite directions to uncover the bone, muscle, and tissue lurking beneath. Dried out eyes lurked deep within these uncovered sockets of his skull, rolling around at will to search for moisture to feed on and chained down by pissed off blood vessels, some of which had burst and leaked chalky blood from stress.
Mustering her strength Arienette spat at him, her pirate's smirk more prominent than ever. By chance it had landed in his left decrepit eye socket and the eye reached for the moisture, absorbing it and swelling a bit like a balloon with a burst of air.
Suddenly harsh wings of mutated razor blades rose from behind him to try and pull forth a fear in the child, but her dying form laughed at him, dealing a blow like a banshee's scream to his soul. The muscles in his hand twitched, involuntarily releasing her to the floor. As she fell her head flung itself back, its messy hair toppling everywhere, growing and weaving itself around the girl, forming a protective layer over her death white skin.
"I know what I've done," Her voice changed as she spoke, gaining strings for her to pull and manipulate every movement, "I know whom it is I've killed, and I do not miss him." Before her the angel Gabriel's flesh began to bubble, swelling and popping with every acidic word she let loose. "I know what I've done to his servants, and I do not pity you," She began to convulse and writhe into all sorts of unnatural positions on the floor, her voice still even and controlled as ever. "You shall be the ones to suffer, you cannot kill meeee," she taunted, clawing her way up the wall in jerking movements, "and even worse, you cannot kill yourself."
Her hair snaked itself back to normal length at the small of her back and her bangs just past her shoulders. The change that had occurred in her went as quickly as it had come, only marked by her gray eyes as they flashed like the fire of a lighthouse scanning the sea of the room. The only thing she found there was a torture wracked angel and her own shadow, so she settled for the second.
As with the coming of a great change, many things had changed, and shadows were one of them. In the darkness it was faint, but its own brightness made it visible. She thought of her father's greenhouse when she saw it, thinking if must be full of the same orchids and butterflies, and in truth she wasn't far off.
Proof came as one of the light flighted creatures soared up from it, flirting with her, drawing her to this connection between their worlds. It shimmered and twirled with ease, like that of water sifting through cracks, so fluid in its movements that Arienette became possessed and reached out to the tiny gatekeeper.
It landed on her finger and attached itself there, seeming to go back in its history and re-cocoon itself, until it broke free again in a changed form. Hanging from the silken thread on her finger was now a skeleton key, and before her the floor covered by her shadow peeled up like curling paper to reveal a door with a matching keyhole in its center. A grin crossed her lips as she dropped to her knees, bending to drop the key into its opposite and equal reaction.
As the two parts touched and joined, the finger attached to the key violently split open, its innards drawing back and the bone cracking and crumbling away. The key suddenly locked into the empty socket where the bone had been and propelled itself back into the key hole, whirling around at a mind boggling speed before settling down and allowing the skin to crawl back around it like a parasite becoming one with its host.
Before Arienette could crawl off of the door or check back on Gabrielle, it had swung open and deposited her into the sky of a new environment, leaving her to fall to whatever might catch her, kind or deadly. She closed her eyes, deeply breathing the oxygen she'd been without moments before.
It tasted so good and sweet, she wouldn't mind this being her last memory, and that was what she thought until familiar pains began to occur all over her. "Seven! Seven! Seven!" She screamed in reference to the similar feeling her medicine machine inflicted upon her.
Her eyes flew open, the oxygen had stopped rushing and she was suspended in midair.
Hundreds of flittering needle-mouthed butterflies covered her skin with the sharp sensations. After a time some pulled out from her skin and her weight began to overpower them, sinking the group to the rolling field of orchids beneath. By the time she and the remaining butterflies had landed, Arienette had accepted their presence as a surreal sort of norm. There were still fifty or so attached to her, but it was few enough so she had control of her movements and could sway or walk or frolic to her point of desire.
This land was so intoxicating after all, with all of its oxygen and fine little inhabitants. This one was called Relic, that one Fluffy, another one named Moose, and that one, her eyes lazily wandered their way up a newly encountered inhabitant, that one was-
"Emordnilap- I know you," Arienette firmly believed this.
But as always, she was right, but she was very wrong.
The man, or perhaps boy, it was difficult to distinguish, was about her height and looked like a perfectly normal human. Or rather, he would if he had arms. Instead there were pointy ends to his shoulders and nothing more. If there were it was hidden beneath his very precise yellow and blue striped shirt with white collar and three buttons. His neck may have been a little too long for normalcy, but if so it wasn't blatant. Or maybe it was the flawlessness of his skin or his blue eyes were shinier than they were supposed to be. She didn't think a hollow black piercing in each ear mattered, or the fresh dark stubble of hair appearing onto a recently bare scalp. The butterfly attached to his nose wasn't unusual either, but then again-,
"I am Emordnilap."
As he spoke she realized it wasn't what he looked like, but rather the appearance of his words that was so unusual. When he spoke his own name a dragon eating it's tail formed from dust particles in the air. "You do not know me," a smile rose from the corners of his mouth, "but you are correct." Pictures continued to form for each word, a rush of corresponding sign language. "I am a counselor of sorts for you. Since you are too intoxicated to think, I must tell you what you need to realize."
Arienette could only tilt her head and smile faithfully, "The butterflies, tell me more of them. Such amazing stories they whisper in my ears."
Emordnilap nodded, "The time has come for me to speak of many things."
A giant blossom grew beneath them, sweeping them up into its center to shroud them in its petals.
"This is the third world you have encountered so far, it hasn't a name, so instead it's often referred to as 'Palindrome.' Palindrome is a place of healing, and you will be drawn here only when there is reason. This time you needed to hear from me, and be revived from your encounter with Gabrielle.
"These butterflies are Palindromes healers, their mouths are long needles, which is why you feel pain when they latch onto you. When they bite you they act as a filter to your blood. They pull it from your veins and replace it only once they've taken out the impurities, because that is what they live from."
"So," Arienette stopped him, "they've been getting rid of the ITP in my liver? My blood disease is being taken from me?"
He bowed his head to her, "No. Nothing can take that from you now, it is your curse to live immortal with its effects still in you. Dead while you are alive. You see, when you went to that pasture, you did indeed kill God."
She raised an eyebrow at him, something she'd inherited from her father, "I know. I felt it, but how? I shot once into the air. He's God, that shouldn't kill him."
"You are not the first to tell God he ought to die, but you are the first to actually do so. It wasn't necessarily the bullet that killed him; more that you were the first to mean what was behind your words and behind your actions." He finished his unfinished explanation with a series of hand gestures to manipulate the air like he did when he spoke. Shadows sprang to life there, tangoing their way in every direction across the petal walls of their living chamber.
"Long ago the courts of Heaven made an agreement; the most powerful of angels could each create their own world. They were allowed full reign over it as long as they agreed to allow a cursed angel to find sanctuary there." Emordnilap set his sight grimly on the shadows as they danced out the plot like actors of the first moving pictures. "You were the cursed angel cast out to live your perpetual cycle of life out on earth until your soul collapsed."
He brought forth a blade, seeming to control it by a flick or a sweep of his eyes. "But, now you've given yourself a chance to save your soul. You have the chance to give your curse back to the ones who gave it to you, and to spread it among them like a hideous plague." The blade came to rest in Arienette's palm. "It is true that you cannot physically kill an angel -but not all deaths are of the physical sort."