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Kronii wipes her lip.
When she pulls her arm back, she notices the deep red stain on her sweater sleeve. It’s seeping through the small holes of the tightly filled sweater that was knit by someone made for her ages ago.
She’s bleeding.
—
How silly, it must seem.
The Warden of Time, known as even Time herself, is bleeding like a mortal.
But she is no human. …Is she?
“Kronii!”
The Warden wants to peer over her shoulder to see the voice’s face.
Something’s stopping her.
The fear of losing everything she’s ever had. The fear of seeing and never forgetting. The fear of longing to see that face again and again.
Despite this, Kronii stands. She stands in the midst of nothing. She lets the voice come closer.
“Kronii!” She calls again.
The voice’s hand slides along Time’s shoulder, grazing the bumps on her neck. A thumb glides above the upraised surface of her faded scars, a pink-ish hue not far from her natural skin tone.
There’s a sense of longing from the figure standing behind her that isn’t spoken, yet doesn’t have to be spoken. Kronii can sense the feeling.
The figure pulls Time into a gentle embrace that slowly grew stronger as Kronii hugged back.
The hand wipes the corner of Kronii’s lip. The figure’s thumb and index finger come together to rub the substance, opening up to reveal the smear of blood on skin.
There’s a pregnant pause before the figure speaks again.
“You’re bleeding.”
“No duh.”
The figure lets out a short sigh, exasperated yet full of worry.
“Are you okay?”
“..Yeah.” The response is arid. Kronii’s staring at the smudge of blood on the figure’s limp fingers.
There’s a prolonged silence that entices Kronii to finally look over her shoulder. Her eyes meets with the figure’s, Time’s sapphire-blues locking with her light-ambers.
Kronii looks straight forward to the floating string of film in front of her, now snapped in two.
“Actually..” she begins, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
“I’m not feeling that well, Mumei.”