Maybe I'm not so good as I make myself seem to you
I know I have a bad heart
I know I have a bad heart
She lingers after the fire; though as the medic trails away at Remi’s side, looking as faint as her kind can, Nephele leaves and mills with the thinning crowd as they whisper and shake like scared dogs outside the Temple. She bides her time. Listens and murmurs her own alibi, making soft commiserating noises when the dead are mentioned. There is no guilt, no remorse. They were merely collateral in the war that she does not intend to wait for.
When the sun rises, she asks around for the doctor’s lodgings. Arm pitifully wrapped and scorched shoulder still bare, Nephele stands on Isla’s doorstep and raps her knuckles against the woman’s door. It is a dangerous thing she’s doing and she knows it, but her kind have relied on gilded tongues and convenient alibis before. This is her heritage.
When the sun rises, she asks around for the doctor’s lodgings. Arm pitifully wrapped and scorched shoulder still bare, Nephele stands on Isla’s doorstep and raps her knuckles against the woman’s door. It is a dangerous thing she’s doing and she knows it, but her kind have relied on gilded tongues and convenient alibis before. This is her heritage.
I will have my own way
NEPHELE
