Huaxu

“It’s you.” Huaxu seethes. A man in intricate red ceremonial garb tilts his head, a waterfall of brown hair spilling along with it. “Huaxu.” He coos.

Huaxu takes a step back, eyes darting around for a possible exit. Shunobon’s effervescent smile seems to only stretch wider. The soft silk covering his arms slide down to his elbows as he raises them; revealing strips of scarlet skin.

“Why would you want to run? Dreams like this are a rare find.” The way his voice resonates in Huaxu’s ear pours panic through her overfilling floodgates. “It’s not often I get to speak to someone not in the Lower Gardens.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. Get out of my head.” She barks.

Shunobon prowls towards her with equal parts menace and grace; like a creature with the face of a maiden but the body of a panther. “But you were the one who created this dream.” He reaches out to touch her shoulder, but she smacks his hand away.

Huaxu hisses and recoils, a burning sensation crawling up the side of her arm like white lighting. She looks down to see that the skin is fine, giving him a chance to kneel to her eye level and grip his shoulders.

“You know, we are quite similar- you and I.”

The words send shivers down her spine.

Shunobon’s face is darkened and lit with the harsh fire of her dreamscape; painting him in an utterly sinister light. What gentle demeanour he previously possessed has been wiped out by the orange licks of fire illuminating the spit on his teeth. Holes burn into where his fingers grasp her sides, searing her like the brand of a witch.

“Just because I was given nothing does not make me anything like you.” Hauxu musters the most venomous tone she can, but the end of her statement has her voice quivering, sounding like more of a little girl than she’d hoped.
She sees Shunobon’s smile waiver for the first time. His right hand lets go of her, trailing upwards in a straight line until it’s aligned with the mark on her forehead. “Let go of me.” Huaxu whispers.

Shunobon drills his index finger right in the centre of the lotus paint; Huaxu’s eyes turn bleary from the sudden pain. It fills her mouth with cotton and makes her spine go limp; it sends her writhing body backwards until she slams onto a rock. She swears to god that his fingernail all but punctures the skin and bone of her forehead, and she screams when blood trickles down her nose bridge.

“We are so much more than what God has given us.” Shunobon says evenly. Her misty eyes are transfixed on the pit of magma that seems to coat his maw; birthing wisps of flames that fan onto her cheeks.
He reaches out to cover her eyes; until all she could see was red; and all she could feel was the unrelenting warmth of his palm.

When Huaxu wakes up, it’s with a searing migraine in the centre of her forehead.