WEAVER
She lets him sit like that for a little while, but when it’s clear he’s lost it, when he just sits there muttering that he’s sorry, when he doesn’t bother to look up at the note, she smacks the side of his head. Not too hard, but enough to get his attention, because she isn’t in the mood for this. Yes, there is something wrong with him, and maybe someone else would be gentle about it, but not her. Straia wouldn’t have been gentle either. She would not have wrapped him in a hug and let him crumble to pieces. Possibly Straia actually would have lit him on fire. Weaver is slightly nicer.
Weaver shoves the paper at him with some force this time, poking at his arms with it. Gods, this would be so much easier if he could hear, but of course he couldn’t. She notices the blood still dripping from his side, and tries to heal it again. It should stitch shut, though it might still be sore and raw for a while. At least he didn’t need to bleed out in the damn training hall of the Palace as he fell to pieces. They were lucky it was early, with only a few people around to stare, because this was soon going to turn into a scene.
Weaver shoves the paper at him with some force this time, poking at his arms with it. Gods, this would be so much easier if he could hear, but of course he couldn’t. She notices the blood still dripping from his side, and tries to heal it again. It should stitch shut, though it might still be sore and raw for a while. At least he didn’t need to bleed out in the damn training hall of the Palace as he fell to pieces. They were lucky it was early, with only a few people around to stare, because this was soon going to turn into a scene.
I was made to be wild, wicked, and free
