The lip of the crystal vial was cracked, blue fluid seeped quietly down the side. A clean trail of blue falling from the stained cork, ending in a perfect droplet — racing towards the bottom of the vial.
Meredith placed her finger just below the drop, and watched it pool — filling the whorls of her skin like canals on a forgotten planet. She slid her finger upwards, carefully gathering the falling liquid into a blob.
The liquid was blue, almost dark but not quite. A hint of spring on a cold hillside.
She held her finger up to the lamp, carefully observing the blue smear.
Meredith tucked the vial into her belt, keeping the world on her finger undisturbed. She leaned in close, and took a slow breath. The liquid had no true odor, only the barest chill in her nose – a quiet taste on the back of her tongue.
There was a dagger on the desk. The edges of it shone in the lamplight, slick and blue.
The liquid had a purpose. The dagger had a purpose. She had a purpose.
The tiny world on her finger shimmered, a larger world waited outside. A quiet moment here, before. Considering.
A quick taste, and worlds spun – changed by this quiet moment. But which?
Which world would end?
The blue drop sat on Meredith’s finger, a blue death sat on Meredith’s dagger, a blue world waited — hushed, and listening for her answer.
The blue liquid was blue.
It was unconcerned.
[Story on Demand for Belle of Mountains. ]