shield for a heart,
and a sword for a tongue
The swift sound of the thud of shoes along her floor toward her keeps the Harpy from falling back asleep, and her head lifts just enough to look up to the Reaper as he approaches first – his eyes sharp and piercing, watchful, (regretful?) as they linger on her. She tries to give him a small smile, a small bit of the flame beneath the cold, but she can’t – and she tightens the blanket around her shoulders as he crouches to be eye level with her. And her eyes find his just as easily.
She gives him a smile when he tells her they were successful, breaking the gaze only to look to Amalia as she approaches, the smile lingering just briefly along her pale, scarred body, before she looks to Deimos when he speaks of congratulating her. She shrugs her shoulders, the blanket falling off slightly to show the way the wound is healing – scabbed over from Melita’s arrow, but around the skin is black. The scratches along her spine from colliding with the wall are much the same. She nods gently until he mentions that now is not the time, and she shrugs her shoulders briefly again.
He asks for healing, and suddenly Amalia’s eyes are on hers, hands on her cheeks, and she turns to focus on her as her voice rings through, speaking the fears that Kiada had wished weren’t true, but knew deep within her that it was true. A knell, a toll, a death sentence. Amalia’s hand lands on her knee and Kiada’s head swivels back to Deimos with a slight frown, nodding in agreement before her eyes drop to the floor. “I noticed… the tremble in the Cloister.” She admits, biting on the inside of her lip.
“I’m sorry, I wanted to be sure before I told you. And I didn’t want to tell you when you were at the Spire, I didn’t want you to worry.” For all the brimstone and flame, the caring and uncaring nature of the girl, she finds the words that come from her mouth to be sorrowful and sad, pathetic, an echo of what she had become. And she lets the blanket fall back to rub her face with her twitching hands, a deep inhale. “At first it was just the tremble, and then the mood swings. And now I’m just so horribly tired and cold all the time.” She admits before letting her hands fall to look to Amalia and Deimos, wondering if maybe in another life they would have been the best set of parents anyone could have asked for.
And she inhales before she tears her gaze away from blues and blacks, to look toward Auni as he returns with Deimos’ bag, sniffing through it and pulling the armor and gifts out of the bag from behind them while they’re distracted, before sniffing at it and dragging it into the space behind the couch. The Luxere moves quickly, stuffing the bag away without raising alarm as though he’s simply exploring it. Kiada’s eyes drift back toward them, raising an arm to rub against the scar along her neck. “Never in everything I’ve lived through, have I ever felt this horribly weak.” There’s a hint of flame and fury under the words, but it’s like a match in comparison to her usual wildfire. And her eyes seek out Amalia and Deimos with a small frown. “I’m sorry.” She says again.
She gives him a smile when he tells her they were successful, breaking the gaze only to look to Amalia as she approaches, the smile lingering just briefly along her pale, scarred body, before she looks to Deimos when he speaks of congratulating her. She shrugs her shoulders, the blanket falling off slightly to show the way the wound is healing – scabbed over from Melita’s arrow, but around the skin is black. The scratches along her spine from colliding with the wall are much the same. She nods gently until he mentions that now is not the time, and she shrugs her shoulders briefly again.
He asks for healing, and suddenly Amalia’s eyes are on hers, hands on her cheeks, and she turns to focus on her as her voice rings through, speaking the fears that Kiada had wished weren’t true, but knew deep within her that it was true. A knell, a toll, a death sentence. Amalia’s hand lands on her knee and Kiada’s head swivels back to Deimos with a slight frown, nodding in agreement before her eyes drop to the floor. “I noticed… the tremble in the Cloister.” She admits, biting on the inside of her lip.
“I’m sorry, I wanted to be sure before I told you. And I didn’t want to tell you when you were at the Spire, I didn’t want you to worry.” For all the brimstone and flame, the caring and uncaring nature of the girl, she finds the words that come from her mouth to be sorrowful and sad, pathetic, an echo of what she had become. And she lets the blanket fall back to rub her face with her twitching hands, a deep inhale. “At first it was just the tremble, and then the mood swings. And now I’m just so horribly tired and cold all the time.” She admits before letting her hands fall to look to Amalia and Deimos, wondering if maybe in another life they would have been the best set of parents anyone could have asked for.
And she inhales before she tears her gaze away from blues and blacks, to look toward Auni as he returns with Deimos’ bag, sniffing through it and pulling the armor and gifts out of the bag from behind them while they’re distracted, before sniffing at it and dragging it into the space behind the couch. The Luxere moves quickly, stuffing the bag away without raising alarm as though he’s simply exploring it. Kiada’s eyes drift back toward them, raising an arm to rub against the scar along her neck. “Never in everything I’ve lived through, have I ever felt this horribly weak.” There’s a hint of flame and fury under the words, but it’s like a match in comparison to her usual wildfire. And her eyes seek out Amalia and Deimos with a small frown. “I’m sorry.” She says again.
KIADA
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
