Work Text:
Kitsune statuette, who are you waiting for, that you turned to stone idling?
The white fox, last goddess of the Hakushin.
Where did she go?
She walked into the dusk, smiling, and she is gone.
What if she never returns?
Then we will be a petrified testament to how stories die, the wind-swept, lichen-kissed, rain-washed legacy of a long-lost predecessor.
How long have you waited?
So long, and so short. So long that we have turned to stone. So short, to the unmoving rock. Time feels like nothing, but eventually, we will forget who we are waiting for, and we will just be stones.
You have waited so long you forgot to move, or to speak, or to breathe.
We speak to those who listen, who know where to look. In time, there will be none. We are memories, proof of legends that are no longer told.
When will you stop waiting?
When the sky is cracked, and the stars fall from it like the last flickering lights of the fireflies, and a new dawn burns the old world away. Then we will follow her into the twilight with all the old world held dear.