[hammer base] beauty and the beast

There was only one rose left in the glass case.

Withered and dehydrated petals lie quietly on the table, like a mourning.

he's gone?

The little blue-skinned monster stood on the attic that was full of cobwebs and dust, and the wallpaper was too old to see the patterns on it, looking at the front yard where they ran horses together, had snowball fights, and fed the birds. There was a vast expanse of white snow and two clear footprints, leading to the footprints outside the castle.

Yes, said Mr. Rabbit guiltily.

I thought he was okay with that, so—I mean, we all know that stuff, it's not your fault at all.

He loves his father, so it's not surprising that he would feel contemptible and hateful for killing a living person.

The little blue-skinned monster said lightly.

Mr. Little Rabbit felt that this was unusual, he should get angry and throw him against the wall instead of staring down at his palm in a daze.

But this silence made him feel more guilty, and he even felt that if Loki looked at him with even one heartbroken, sad, and desperate look, he would not be able to help but want to jump out of the attic window.

But the little monster finally just said, let's go.

Maybe there is still time, we can go after him!

No.

The little monster's lips moved slightly, and spit out a short syllable.

The sky has changed from a dark blue that is almost black like splashed ink to a light, diluted, transparent and cold ice blue, and the night is coming to an end.

I just don't know whether the new day will be sunny or snowy.

But either way, that's fine.

If it was sunny, Sol would lead the pony in the stable and wait at the steps.

He would also scatter the grain on the ground, into his palm, and tell him to open his hands and wait for those clumsy, chubby little birds to land on his palm.

If it was snowing, Sol would sometimes run down early to clear the snow from the yard.

But the snow was thick and heavy, and he couldn't finish sweeping it all, so he simply gave up and happily rolled snowballs and built snowmen.

His hands are warm even after playing in the snow, so warm that they can almost burn him, but he is still obsessed with the tactile sensation of being held by him, and that feeling often makes him feel delusional, as if, he is no longer Not a monster, but a, man.

he will come back

The last petal may last for two or three days, two or three days, enough for him to visit his family and then return to him.

But how?

Why do you want him back?

The little monster clenched its fists tightly, its sharp nails pierced its palm, and there was a mocking smile on the corner of its mouth.

He's a monster, and he's a human being.