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Elise is going to die.
Her death is imminent and it's all she can think of.
Why? How? When? She doesn't know, but it's bound to happen.
Maybe it's just paranoia, some elaborate fear her brain conjured up to pull her away from the monotony of life, of work, of everything. But any explanation, no matter how reasonable, won't stop the inevitable. Elise is going to die.
It's irrational and she knows it, but it's hard to not believe in your impending death when you can practically feel it coming. It looms over her head like some sort of storm-cloud, a lingering feeling that she can only describe as dread.
Sometimes she lies awake at night, her mind racing with all sorts of possibilities and scenarios, her thoughts littered with freak accidents and sights that she could never tell another soul about, ranging from the extremes to something you might see on the morning news. The wet plop of her head sliding off her neck and onto the floor, the quiet beep, beep, beep of a smoke detector in a room that's beyond saving…
There's no scenario where she doesn't die. She doesn't imagine things to avoid them, she imagines them to prepare herself, even if she loses sleep over it.
It's not like she could die on the job, as if she could even call it such a thing. She isn't like the other magical girls anymore and she hasn't been for a long, long time. She sees their stares as she walks down the halls, she hears their whispers as she sits alone.
They envy her, they're below her, and Elise loves it. The feeling of authority, the feeling of eyes being on her, the feeling of being special.
But she isn't so special anymore, is she?
She almost misses it, being a "normal" magical girl. She misses the fights against creatures without names, she misses the thrill of transformation, the crack of lengthening bones and the squeak of stretching skin. Of course she was cursed with getting taller whenever she transforms…She misses the thrill, the danger, but such a job is below her now.
It's what happens to all popular magical girls, after all. You're special, you're beloved by thousands, why risk getting hurt? Ignore the fact that you've been changed forever, inside and out. Ignore the aching in your bones, ignore the stretch marks that litter your elbows and knees. Does it really matter if everyone loves you?
At least she had actual ways to die when she was a magical girl, a proper magical girl. Now her life is littered with meetings and TV appearances. She feels like she's drowning in useless paperwork and the color pink that burns her eyes everywhere she goes.
It's for "branding," is what she hears the most. But Elise doesn't want to hear about branding, she doesn't want to hear about useless TV appearances and meetings that go on for hours on end. She's content with lying in bed for the day and pondering her inescapable death.
But, there's something that pulls her away from the dread, from the meetings, from the burning eyes of envy, something that Elise loves, the only thing that Elise loves.
Opal.
Opal, Opaline, the "star-child" is what she's called the most. Elise's love for the girl is like no other. She longs to be with her in her every waking moment, longs to hear her speak for hours on end, to hear her call her "Miss Elise" if it takes away the dread for even a mere second.
Opal is nice, Opal is sweet, Opal is everything that Elise once was and everything that she could never be again. She invites her over for "sleepovers" as if the two are schoolgirls, she braids her hair as they watch stupid movies, she calls her phone in the deep hours of the night when all Elise can think of is the dread and death and how unavoidable it all is, and Opal says "Hello," in that sweet, sweet tone of hers, to which Elise can only croak out a mere "Hi," as her face flushes. How embarrassing, how disgusting.
But Opal, sweet Opal, she's never disgusted, no, she would never be, she can't be. Opal is her light, Opal is her stars and her moon, Opal is her everything. She isn't beneath her like the other girls are, never. Opal isn't someone to be pitied, Opal isn't someone to dismiss or cast aside. She is beautiful and haunting and Elise has never loved and hated someone so much in her entire life.
Hate?
How could she ever hate Opal? Opal is everything Elise will never be: a girl from the moon, beloved by thousands the second she was discovered. It makes Elise sick to her stomach, aching more than the dread ever could. Why couldn't Elise be as pristine? Why couldn't Elise be as perfect?
It's all Opal, Opal, Opal. Oh, she's the mysterious "Star-child." Oh, of course she needs all of the attention, never-mind the actual magical girls, the better ones, the actual hard-working ones. Elise is infatuated and disgusted with the girl all at the same time.
She wants to lie with Opal for eternity and rip her apart piece by piece. She wants to study her, she wants to cherish her, she wants to see what makes the girl so special and take it for herself. She wants to pick at her brain as she holds her in her arms, she wants nothing more but to cradle her beating heart as she kisses her. Does Opal carry the fear of death? Does Opal carry the same envy and disgust as Elise does?
Elise longs to be with her, to tear her apart and put her back together, taking bits and pieces for herself. Call her selfish, call her gross and disgusting, but it's all Elise could dream of. It's the only thing Elise dreams of other than the weight of death and dread that threatens to swallow her whole.
Opal would hate her if she knew of her thoughts, the girl would probably avoid her, she'd never speak to Elise again. But that's just another slew of thoughts that weighs on Elise, a slew of thoughts that panic her more than her inevitable death ever could.
Opal is her light. Opal is her stars and her moon. Opal is her friend. Opal is the one whom Elise truly loves.
Opal is the only thing that keeps away the ache of dread, of death.
How could Elise ever lose that?