and indeed, just think: in many ways, body and soul,
i have been more a battlefield —
Gods, everything goes to hell and then some. She tucks the blade that she’d won from the Loreseeker’s booth, Loren now gone and missing – trying to fight the mud monster that barrels there. And Phoebe is there too, trying her best to try and fend off the monster – but she can’t stop as her feet start moving. Parasol slung over her shoulder to try and ward out the sunlight that would weaken her, she tries to sprint toward the wall that comes shattering down.
She has to be careful now, isn’t that what everyone was telling her? That she’s queen now, and she can’t go striding straight into the danger. But she’s queen, and these are her people now, and she can hear the screams as the wall comes down, shattering and splintering across the thunderous crack that ignites it. But that’s not the one that reaches her ear first, Amalia’s cry – head turning, green eyes scanning, spotting her and Remi and Wessex as the Wraith arrives.
And Aoife, poor sweet Aoife who had made her face her fears after Ronin’s demise, of holding and playing with a small child. She wonders if Remi and Ronin had kept the gift she’d made them… Back before, back when things were simpler. When things were easier. Her heart breaks, it is breaking, as she turns from the wall – ushering frantic people away and away and away from the incoming danger.
But among the tears and the fear, everything is flying about, everyone is darting around aimlessly. And she needs them all to listen, to go if they haven’t heard or seen the carnage that’s begun. Raising a hand to the sky, she shoots a large firework out – aimed toward where people are running from, hoping that perhaps the boom would get more people to depart from that general direction. “Get those most vulnerable out, now.” She begins, gesturing for anyone nearby willing, her voice a rough demand of charge that she hasn’t used in years. “Healers, start healing those with the worst of the injuries and work your way up.” Green eyes cast in Remi’s direction with Amalia and the rest of them, before she looks over to the bodies. “Those with strength, start moving the bodies and get out of the way of the creature.”
And she starts moving, to Remi and Amalia and Wessex and Evie, watching as Wessex pushes down hard onto his lungs and Rexanna reaches for Amalia first, green eyes lighting up with that bright green glow as she scans the Shield from head to toe, snagging at a spot along her skull, a small frown forming along her face. “You’re okay, a small fracture along your head.” She says after a moment, eyes drifting to Evie then, wondering if the woman would make note to heal it after the worst were injured.
Nodding to Wessex, she turns those glowing green eyes to Remi and Aoife, spreading into the infrared part of her gaze, where she frowns, lip wobbling slightly as she reaches for the little girl, cradling her close to her chest, crafting a small blanket to cover the girl. “Go to the Outskirts. I can help carry him if someone else wants to hold… her. Keep them together.” She stumbles over the words, the emotions in her throat, in her chest, the tightness of how once upon a time she’d felt this too – her own. It’s a hole that can’t ever be fixed, a trauma she now shares with the Alchemist. A trauma that never leaves you the same again.
She understands, to an extent, why he doesn't want to breathe anymore.
She has to be careful now, isn’t that what everyone was telling her? That she’s queen now, and she can’t go striding straight into the danger. But she’s queen, and these are her people now, and she can hear the screams as the wall comes down, shattering and splintering across the thunderous crack that ignites it. But that’s not the one that reaches her ear first, Amalia’s cry – head turning, green eyes scanning, spotting her and Remi and Wessex as the Wraith arrives.
And Aoife, poor sweet Aoife who had made her face her fears after Ronin’s demise, of holding and playing with a small child. She wonders if Remi and Ronin had kept the gift she’d made them… Back before, back when things were simpler. When things were easier. Her heart breaks, it is breaking, as she turns from the wall – ushering frantic people away and away and away from the incoming danger.
But among the tears and the fear, everything is flying about, everyone is darting around aimlessly. And she needs them all to listen, to go if they haven’t heard or seen the carnage that’s begun. Raising a hand to the sky, she shoots a large firework out – aimed toward where people are running from, hoping that perhaps the boom would get more people to depart from that general direction. “Get those most vulnerable out, now.” She begins, gesturing for anyone nearby willing, her voice a rough demand of charge that she hasn’t used in years. “Healers, start healing those with the worst of the injuries and work your way up.” Green eyes cast in Remi’s direction with Amalia and the rest of them, before she looks over to the bodies. “Those with strength, start moving the bodies and get out of the way of the creature.”
And she starts moving, to Remi and Amalia and Wessex and Evie, watching as Wessex pushes down hard onto his lungs and Rexanna reaches for Amalia first, green eyes lighting up with that bright green glow as she scans the Shield from head to toe, snagging at a spot along her skull, a small frown forming along her face. “You’re okay, a small fracture along your head.” She says after a moment, eyes drifting to Evie then, wondering if the woman would make note to heal it after the worst were injured.
Nodding to Wessex, she turns those glowing green eyes to Remi and Aoife, spreading into the infrared part of her gaze, where she frowns, lip wobbling slightly as she reaches for the little girl, cradling her close to her chest, crafting a small blanket to cover the girl. “Go to the Outskirts. I can help carry him if someone else wants to hold… her. Keep them together.” She stumbles over the words, the emotions in her throat, in her chest, the tightness of how once upon a time she’d felt this too – her own. It’s a hole that can’t ever be fixed, a trauma she now shares with the Alchemist. A trauma that never leaves you the same again.
She understands, to an extent, why he doesn't want to breathe anymore.
— than a human being
REXANNA
