Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Unable to tear her eyes away, she saw the soldiers take over the handling of the rogues and would have kept following their path all the way to the door. Except, her view was filled with Asta's face instead, and with the rag. Accepting it, she shrugged her shoulders numbly and wiped at her bleeding lip, staining it with crimson. "I'm not hurt." Not physically, at least. It was just that a cold seemed to have settled in her bones after that spell, and though the room was warming up again, her insides were not. Getting tired of my own words
Focusing her gaze on her friend, the change in him seemed far more concerning in the moment. The expression he wore rhymed poorly with the decadent opulence of the Dusklight. He seemed made for some other place entirely; something rougher and harsher, a world far less kind than the one she knew. Drawing breath to speak, she cut herself off several times, realizing that she didn't know what to say. This was an Asta she didn't know. Not that she knew him that well in general but... this version felt dangerous. Volatile, somehow - and to have him on his knees for her sake was so wrong.
"Are you okay?" Pale eyes scanned him quickly, searching for injuries. Still clutching the confiscated knife in one hand, she made a gesture to turn it on herself - if all she ever did was cause pain, then let it be her own, and for the sake of helping those more capable than herself.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
