i'm not okay

KIADA

i dream of gods and monsters

She hears Rexanna say ’no’ and her brows lift slightly, though her eyes never waver from her face. The snap from her mother is something Kiada doesn’t expect – the only fire and vitriol found within the woman was through her magic. Nothing else, not through words though she could wield them like any other blade, they never held the fire that this version gives her. And Kiada suddenly wonders if she’s broken the woman that once in a different world was her parent, or if the person before her is different. Her lips form a tight line as she shrugs her shoulders slightly in response.

Perhaps Cal would make it here, perhaps he might try to do the same thing to her.

But Rexanna isn’t finished, she continues to go on and speak of Kiada’s father and what Rexanna had gotten out of it, and Kiada’s nails begin to dig into the leathers adorning her arms, still folded across her chest. “I am nothing like you.” She spits back, wishing that the woman before her could see that. When tragedy struck, Kiada didn’t have the luxury to hide away and cry, she had to keep fighting. She wasn’t allowed to disappear, to fall into her ‘lovers’ arms and forget about the tragedies of the world.

She was far too involved. And perhaps far too bitter about the keen ability her mother had when it came to being too beautiful and able to capture the eyes of anyone walking past. Kiada hardly got anything from her mother, aside from the swiftness of her speed and perhaps her coloring. She didn’t get the beauty of her mother, she didn’t get the agile, short stature. Those were things she got from her father, as well as her strength.

And yet she was nothing like either of them all the same? “You disappeared again and again. You left us. Once Safiri was born and she was born wrong, you were far too concerned with her health to notice the world changing. You didn’t notice when your first born daughter pledged herself to the dark, false god to get her brother back.” Her voice is growing raw from the arguing, but she can’t seem to stop herself. It’s a wonder her breathing is even under control.

and of the man who knew i was both