Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
She should have seen that one coming. Nevertheless, the question made her flinch and again her gaze took refuge in the scenery outside. She missed the days when she'd walked the streets of Halo with Ludo's shawl draped about her shoulders. Missed the clean air, the biting cold and the stern beauty of its vast landscape. Everything felt muddled here, in comparison. Messy and chaotic, impossible to overlook... Getting tired of my own words
"Somewhere just in between the two," she said faintly. "It's very tempting, you know. To let go, and stop trying. I did that once, and... there weren't really any consequences. Maybe the world is so used to monsters that one more or less doesn't make a difference." Tracing patterns in condensation beading on the table, she wondered absently what Alys might divine from them. "What's it called... l'appelle du vide? The call of the void. I could just lean back, say it's what pleases my goddess and throw everything to the wind. Some days it is very tempting. The rest of the time, I do what I can to recall why it is better not to."
It was there, though, at the back of her mind. A certain numbness, a hazy lack of shits to be given. Was it a product of an unstable mind, a response to trauma of her youth, or merely an expression of depression? She didn't know. Couldn't tell. There was only the void, and the silver linings keeping her gaze fixed upwards, and the aching weariness deep in her bones.
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
