Drinking from a bitter cup, burying the bottles with the bones
A year. He admits it, and that’s something, but she’s treading water and a grain of sand offered up as solid ground is a mockery. His reasons don’t reach her now, not when they’re just words and she needs results, explanations in place of actions, apologies instead of prevention. He’s offering rationale as a counter to emotion, and maybe politics and temperature charts would’ve meant something to her if she were standing anywhere other than in the charred remains of her entire life and livelihood. If he’s endured far worse, he does not impart much of that survival expertise to her now, just compares their scars as if there’s anything to be won by it.
The outright flare of her anger begins to drain from her, settling into something colder and harder. Detachment is a way to process this, to outlast it. It’s not the best way, probably not even a right way, but it is a way, and she means to use it to handle the sheer void that’s inside her now, the one that’s replaced the steady ground she used to stand on. Past, present, future is all here, crumbling into the wind. ”I’m touched, truly,” she grinds out, tone as barren as her land is. Oh he cares, just seems to be a hell of a lot about his reputation. She’s wounded, but he’s lost himself on the show of her teeth instead of her blood, so afraid of getting bit that his own bare back in response. ”Don’t worry, ain’t nothin’ left to care about.” A flat, short laugh leaves her, lacking all humor.
She sighs, giving up the inches to him that he seems to need, literally even as she steps to the side. She doesn't look at him, hasn't since her gaze turned to the horizon. ”Fine then, I’ll call you Sunjata the Blameless, Archon of Burned End,” she shrugs, like it costs her nothing to wipe that off her shoulder now. He doesn’t want the fault, and she won’t give it to fate, so that pretty much just leaves her, much as he says otherwise. Which she already knows to an extent, but tries not to look at too closely, the same way your body shelters harm from your senses, the true catastrophe only landing once you see the bone and the blood exposed.
A tsk wrinkles out of the corner of her mouth as she makes to walk through the black snow, a sound of utter disappointment. In him, or in herself, hard to say.
The outright flare of her anger begins to drain from her, settling into something colder and harder. Detachment is a way to process this, to outlast it. It’s not the best way, probably not even a right way, but it is a way, and she means to use it to handle the sheer void that’s inside her now, the one that’s replaced the steady ground she used to stand on. Past, present, future is all here, crumbling into the wind. ”I’m touched, truly,” she grinds out, tone as barren as her land is. Oh he cares, just seems to be a hell of a lot about his reputation. She’s wounded, but he’s lost himself on the show of her teeth instead of her blood, so afraid of getting bit that his own bare back in response. ”Don’t worry, ain’t nothin’ left to care about.” A flat, short laugh leaves her, lacking all humor.
She sighs, giving up the inches to him that he seems to need, literally even as she steps to the side. She doesn't look at him, hasn't since her gaze turned to the horizon. ”Fine then, I’ll call you Sunjata the Blameless, Archon of Burned End,” she shrugs, like it costs her nothing to wipe that off her shoulder now. He doesn’t want the fault, and she won’t give it to fate, so that pretty much just leaves her, much as he says otherwise. Which she already knows to an extent, but tries not to look at too closely, the same way your body shelters harm from your senses, the true catastrophe only landing once you see the bone and the blood exposed.
A tsk wrinkles out of the corner of her mouth as she makes to walk through the black snow, a sound of utter disappointment. In him, or in herself, hard to say.
Colt
I kept the pain, now I only feel alive inside the flame
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
