Essetia & Romul

And although I wasn't losing my mind, It was a chorus so sublime

For a short time, confusion flashed like a moving picture across Zyanya’s gentle face. It rallied and coursed across the slopes of her cheeks as understanding made way for pure and simple cluelessness. If Essetia could imagine anything similar to the shock and ruin she’s inspired in those dahlia colored eyes, she imagined how she looked when she’d witnessed Midas fall to his death amid an unbridled tempest in the North.  Old and bitter hurts resurfaced, unexplained, and remained despite the spy’s desperate attempts to rein in her convulsive desire to hate.

Maybe she had been wrong to accuse and to envision that this placid girl took any part in her imprisonment, but Essetia’s foolhardy sense of pride kept her from apologizing for her cutthroat attitude. Slowly, the spy’s hard edges appeared to recede as regret replaced the tension growing between her eyes. Her furrowed brow drew softly and her lips sloped downward into a defeated frown. Perhaps she’d been wrong and simply didn’t want to admit to this stranger that she still carried too many odds and ends from the past—ones even directed at Ulrik despite her wayward affections for the stallion. He had been an integral part of the Basin once hadn’t he?

When Zyanya finally recovered herself from Essetia’s verbal lashing and the spy was forced to endure her recoil, Essetia made a new choice in order to save whatever budding friendship the two of them had shared. However, before she could fully apologize for her behavior and her unwilling participation in rediscovering past grudges, the Basin mare had turned away, seeking to be rid of Essetia’s company at once—and with good reason.

“I’m sorry,” Essetia called after her, her eyes trailing the tender curvature of the other’s spine. She was such a small, prim creature, so unaware of anything else outside the bliss she entertained. It took innocence and naivety to embody such a reaction to malice… The spy was immediately disappointed. “I shouldn’t have assumed,” she began, hoping to sway the Unicorn from her retreat. “I have a troubled past with the North and… well, there’s no use in trying to explain it, but I am deeply sorry,” she finished weakly.

Essetia couldn’t really explain how different the Basin had been before Midas died and before they were prompted to hold Essetia while they simultaneously assisted the Edge in taking away her home. She couldn’t put into words the agony and grief of watching her Czar drown in the sky or how sickening it was to hear those unthoughtful creatures debate whether or not to burn his body. Even more so, Essetia couldn’t admit that she, a captive in the Basin during the invasion of the Hidden Falls, had fallen for their Engineer in the middle of wartime circumstances… She’d lost her right to hate them and yet did so anyway, even after they showed promise toward change. Ulrik had told her as much about their ideas to connect with the other herds, and yet the spy couldn’t quite find it within her heart to forgive them for what they’d done.

There was no one to blame and Essetia wanted nothing more than to find her scapegoat.