Work Text:
Blood effortlessly gushes out of the wound on the Nursefather’s manikin, arcing out in a fountain-like spurt. Its skeletal muscles feebly twitch as it slumps to the ground, muscle jerking back and forth, the bones snapped and crushed under the weight of Fascia. Albina stares at it numbly, not processing the blood splashing on her face.
She is nothing more than a weapon, an artwork on display. So is Fascia, at the end of the road. The every twitch of the cardiac muscles straining to keep blood roaming through her beloved Fascia, every squirm of the blood vessels compels her to keep stabbing, pointing Fascia in a way that He should approve. He never does. He only truly cares about that weapon of his, his ‘meticulous craft of corporism’, still maintaining aspects of other styles without being forced to damage his precious human corpse. He only cares about creating the best weapon for Yoshihide, his lost child, and she knows that she is not that weapon. None of them can even dare to reach Yoshihide’s lowest, as unpolished as she might be from years of straying away from the House.
She does not feel—a good art piece should never—but Fascia murmurs out in her stead, distracting her with the need to spill more blood.
Her brain does not know the meaning of irrationality, much better suited to be hung up in an art gallery than an artist splashing colors across a canvas. She lets Fascia communicate desires for her because she can never create them herself. She is a shell to command Fascia.
Albina cannot feel, even as she wipes rusty, pungent blood off of her face, metal scraping on contact. Fascia crushes a spider she didn’t remember existed, a multitude of legs clattering to the ground like dropped needles. She pauses, reassembles her armor, and does not grasp pain, not from the needling in her armor, nor the thoughts staining her brain.
“You are hungry, still.” The chains on her headpiece rattle, a sun shining so brightly in comparison to the blood pooling around her and Fascia. “We should find food for you.” Albina has no need to eat, but Fascia is ever-hungering for flesh, and Albina must always fulfill that desire. What is she if she doesn’t?