Яikyn

Some people, I think to myself, watching her come up from the undertow of magical possession with a glare lacquering her face, her steps filled with the same imposition I’d just pressed upon her without having to move. Duir’s mind links with mine with a similar statement, but entirely unrelated to Wessex at all. You don’t need to talk to people.

The result, of course, is that my head only lifts and pulls back ever so slightly, to avoid my eye being gouged on one of her many horns, as she draws up to me. Slightly taller than I am, I notice only after she stalks away, not really the sort to give a shit how big or small you are, especially when it comes to kicking ass and taking names. The impulse to bite her is sudden, and swift, instead placed behind an ever growing smirk and devilishly glimmering gold eyes, the longer she meanders on (women, I tell you).

"Cast out?" I chuckle, wondering just who she thinks she is. For the simple reason of my absolute shit parents, I’m probably going to be harder to uproot than she thinks. Besides, if she’s a soldier, as her I’ll just punch you buddy attitude seems to suggest, the man who will come for me is none other than my blade brother; he’d asked me here, knowing who I am, and what I am. Even if he did chase me out, his heart breaking into shards which trailed through the snow behind him for the actions he was forced to take, where could he chase me? To the wild, from which I just come? "Kill me? I didn’t even hurt you."

Her swift farewell and departure from the conversation does little to diminish the horribly dark, cruel smile which marks my face, or the fact that I do not care if I have frightened her, or wounded her soul.

There comes a point when one goes swimming through the dark sea that their extremities become numb to the cold, and eventually, their core does too. I am wavering in the half way point, the place where, even though I knew exactly what it felt like to be powerless, as she just had been, I did not care for her suffering, believing that sensation to be a truth of existence, one that was exercised with or without my help. The world would march onward, stamping down hope and crushing the pillars which I had striven to raise, and I could keep raising more, in faith that at least one would remain standing, or I could lie down, becoming the river bed always swept beneath the flow of everything, always expecting the world to break around me, as it never would.

It is easier to wallow.

"Bye then," I tell her with a roll of my eyes, moving back into the valley as she does, in the opposite direction.

[ OOC: ;_; this is why you have no friends Rikyn
Rikyn: Jealous hoes ]

in every heart a hole