they say that war is hell, but,
true hell begins when the battle ends
and you're the only one whose
hands still drip red
The Penumbra half expects a retort along the lines of ”probably not” but is pleasantly surprised with the simple ”perhaps” she receives. And when he’s done with the flower, she slips up beside him with an almost roguish smile despite the news, wishing so desperately to lighten the mood – to patch over them with a mask like she was so used to doing. “Come on, it’ll be like the good old days.” It’s partially a joke, but she means it too. The contemplation between both their minds to come up with a solution.
He tells her when she’s ready, and she reaches out briefly to touch his arm. The ‘sorry’s he has uttered, reflecting in her mind. And she wants him to know that it’s not his fault. That she could never imagine it being so. When it came to gods and wars, there was little to be done, and she has no place of blame within her heart for the things that have happened, for him especially. And she tries to give him another small smile of consolation. “It’s not your fault, Deimos. I don’t blame you for any of it.” A quiet admittance. “Many have gotten sick, nobody knows how. All we know is that the blight reacts similarly to my own fluid… Just less volatile. And it started in the Greatwood. Here.” She tells him softly. Is it a sign? Maybe? She doesn’t know.
But they can try. “I’m ready.” She tells him, giving him another glance to see if he’s ready too.
He tells her when she’s ready, and she reaches out briefly to touch his arm. The ‘sorry’s he has uttered, reflecting in her mind. And she wants him to know that it’s not his fault. That she could never imagine it being so. When it came to gods and wars, there was little to be done, and she has no place of blame within her heart for the things that have happened, for him especially. And she tries to give him another small smile of consolation. “It’s not your fault, Deimos. I don’t blame you for any of it.” A quiet admittance. “Many have gotten sick, nobody knows how. All we know is that the blight reacts similarly to my own fluid… Just less volatile. And it started in the Greatwood. Here.” She tells him softly. Is it a sign? Maybe? She doesn’t know.
But they can try. “I’m ready.” She tells him, giving him another glance to see if he’s ready too.
REXANNA
