KIADA
She was so cold. She had taken to forgoing the bed and blankets for moving it in front of her fireplace – curling up beside Auni, using him as a pillow that only offered more warmth to the exhausted, distraught, heartbroken girl. She had mostly done her best to stay home, to prevent everyone from seeing her in this state. But she had ventured out, gone to the meeting with Remi to offer Auni for help, gone to the Festival of Lights where Deimos had made Ru’in’s trinket for her into a wedding ring, gone to Ludo’s Shrine in its woods to ask for a sign, to see him again, for anything other than the pain of this broken, bleeding heart of hers.
And she had gotten nothing from it other than the promise of not all who are gone are lost.
She doesn’t know what’s more comforting, the fact that there’s the possibility, or the pain of never knowing.
And so the Harpy retreats again, hidden away in a too warm house, decorative knives that Deimos had crafted for her she had used the inside of her home as target practice – a space above the hearth with many varying knives were knocked into the wood, not yet removed. But a show of her mood swings, of her boredom, of her heartbreak, and her inability to do anything about it. She has become useless, a shell of a person. And she hates every second of it.
The knock to her door is somewhat a surprise, wondering if Deimos and Amalia have returned again, but no – they have better things to do than dwell on her. And she doesn’t blame them. Instead, she tells Auni to let whomever it is inside, uncaring at this point. If she dies, so fucking be it. The Luxere, somewhat apprehensively, agrees, and moves toward the door – reaching up with his large tines now to open the door and pauses briefly as he spots Jigano, head tilting back to the rumple of blankets in the center of the floor beside the flame of the fireplace.
But Kiada doesn’t move to greet him, instead she remains curled up in her cocoon of blankets, wearing hardly anything but enough to cover her most important bits – scars and wounds and blackness from the blight on full display – uncertain if it matters anymore after Delah destroyed her favorite clothes. “Do you want your books?” She asks, muffled and weak beneath the blankets. Heaving a quiet sigh, she waits until the door is closed again before she emerges from her cocoon, pushing the blankets back and revealing all the destruction the blight has wrought on her already scarred and scabbed body.
Even the wound to her shoulder from Melita’s arrow has not healed yet.
And she had gotten nothing from it other than the promise of not all who are gone are lost.
She doesn’t know what’s more comforting, the fact that there’s the possibility, or the pain of never knowing.
And so the Harpy retreats again, hidden away in a too warm house, decorative knives that Deimos had crafted for her she had used the inside of her home as target practice – a space above the hearth with many varying knives were knocked into the wood, not yet removed. But a show of her mood swings, of her boredom, of her heartbreak, and her inability to do anything about it. She has become useless, a shell of a person. And she hates every second of it.
The knock to her door is somewhat a surprise, wondering if Deimos and Amalia have returned again, but no – they have better things to do than dwell on her. And she doesn’t blame them. Instead, she tells Auni to let whomever it is inside, uncaring at this point. If she dies, so fucking be it. The Luxere, somewhat apprehensively, agrees, and moves toward the door – reaching up with his large tines now to open the door and pauses briefly as he spots Jigano, head tilting back to the rumple of blankets in the center of the floor beside the flame of the fireplace.
But Kiada doesn’t move to greet him, instead she remains curled up in her cocoon of blankets, wearing hardly anything but enough to cover her most important bits – scars and wounds and blackness from the blight on full display – uncertain if it matters anymore after Delah destroyed her favorite clothes. “Do you want your books?” She asks, muffled and weak beneath the blankets. Heaving a quiet sigh, she waits until the door is closed again before she emerges from her cocoon, pushing the blankets back and revealing all the destruction the blight has wrought on her already scarred and scabbed body.
Even the wound to her shoulder from Melita’s arrow has not healed yet.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
