Mary, Mary, quite contrary. Running from her feelings, when hope is all that embodies her. Running running until she’s hidden and her mind is blank. Away until she is and isn’t herself. Mary, Mary finding herself at a circus. Mary, Mary becoming something she isn’t.
Mary, Mary.
Silly Mary.
Don’t you know you can’t run from yourself?
---
She wanders the circus, lost. Something tugs at the back of her mind, a clawing of sorts. It whispers to her that something is wrong, this is wrong, everything is wrong. She claws at her chest at where that spike drove into her chest -- where she clawed hope into her chest - where it aches. She enters the animal pens and her vision clouds.
The face of someone she knows, smiling sadly at her. Cold winter night, a mug of tea. Words, words are spoken and---
Her chest explodes in pain and she cries out, falling to her knees. No no, that’s wrong that’s wrong. This, this here. This circus, this time, this Mary, this is right.This is the only thing that makes sense Mary. You are Mary. This Mary.
She’s not supposed to be here! This isn’t right, this isn’t her true self this is---
The thought leaves her as fast as it comes and she’s left gasping for breath again. Her fingers dig into the soft earth beneath her as her vision swims. No she is fine, she is fine. She is this Mary and this is the only Mary.
She is… she is…
CRACK
Something fractures, something breaks. Memories, thoughts, things that were not her own fly across her vision and she screams. She screams and screams and screams until her throat aches.
She is Mary. She is Mary She is Mary Mary Mary Mary
Who is Mary?
Who is?
Mary Mary Mary Mary Mary Marymarymarymarymary--
“STOP IT!”
In her mind, Mary the dancer and Mary the real fight for dominance. One fights with ribbons, the other a giant shield. Mary Mary. Mary Mary. She is and she is not at the same time. One moment she is herself, the next she is herself, and she cannot tell which is which. Her chest throbs in pain, in agony, and all she can do is cower on the ground, digging nails into her chest. If only she can get it out, if only she can make it stop if only if only!
The world shatters.
Quite suddenly, she is awake. She knows who she is. She is Mary. She is Bifrost Transcendant Knight of Bifrost. She was chosen by the Surrounding and the releaser of Prena’s starseed. She is kind. She is hope. She is in love with a man who does not love her back. She is friend to Midgard and Raven and she has a grandmother. Her mother killed her grandfather, then youma killed her and her father.
She is here in the circus because she came here to bring joy back to her face, at least for a moment. She is--
Bifrost screams and charges through the frey, attacking anything and everything in her way. Is this real? Is it? She has to know, she has to know if this is real. More of the world around her breaks and cracks and she fights in a panicked frenzy. Who is she who is she who is she!?
Not good enough. She’s not good enough.
She runs and runs and runs until she stumbles into her grandmother’s garden. A garden that all those years ago in she first journeyed to her wonder in. A thought comes to her then and she’s scrambling to remember the words, to keep them in order to go--
The coldness of space shocks her and she collapses against the door to her quarters on the Bifrost. She heaves a sob and shoves her way inside. She throws herself onto the pillows and curls into a ball.
The door shuts quietly behind her.
---
Time moves slowly when the sun does not set and rise. She marks her days with a set sleep schedule and a battery operated clock in the corner. The Surrounding is quiet, but not deathly so. The place has it’s own atmosphere, it’s own sounds. She can hear when someone comes there, but never leaves her room.
She leaves by the only way she knows and to do only one thing: purchase food and fuel for her small generator. She is never gone long - she can’t handle the city or things flash in front of her eyes - and tries to make her trips as infrequent as possible.
This is her duty, to guard the Bifrost.
This is her duty. This is who she is. This is who she is.
---
There are no seasons around the Surrounding, only a constant chill and never changing weather. It keeps her calm, this ever unchanging place. Here, nothing can surprise her. Here, nothing can change from what she believe it to be true. Here, she is herself and nothing more.
She is Bifrost. She is Bifrost. She is Bifrost.
---
She wakes and her chest is lighter. She stares at the ceiling and lets out a sigh. Time has passed, she muses. Perhaps she’s finally healed. She is herself. Herself being the real Mary and not an illusion or future Mary. She doesn’t feel… better, per say, but she feels at peace with herself. She knows she should go home, find the Chronos knights, apologize to a lot of people.
That can wait until tomorrow.
Her eyes close again.
---
She marks the passage of her 23rd birthday with little fanfare. She is content with her life, her duty, her place in the cosmos. Everything is easier here, among the stars. She writes her grams every week, shops every two, and reads more books than is possible. Here, monsters don’t come and mess with your head. Here, you don’t fall through mirrors and almost lose your friends. Here, you don’t confess your feelings and carve words into your flesh.
Here is calm, here is safe, here is Bifrost.
---
Mary Mary quite contrary. Hiding on her wonder as though her duty will protect her from her heart. Mary Mary, poor little Mary, placing her feelings in a box and sealing it way. Never to touch, never to think.
So naive little Mary, to think your demons won’t come calling at your door.
Silly little Mary.
[WC: 1066]
