.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
06-13-2017, 11:27 AM
|
R I K Y N & D U I R
Why wouldn’t we be? Dryly answers Ampere, and I smile, a sideways sort of thing that is accompanied by a glance towards Volterra. "Maybe I shouldn’t assume, but I, uh, well I always thought Volterra here was more into holes than poles, y’know?" my mouth quirks with barely refrained laughter. I’m much less proud of my joke when Tiamat arrives, however; somehow, I want to be less… me, I guess, around her. She thinks I’m a good person, after all, and I’m not sure that good men make jokes about their friend’s sexual habits, or a stranger’s, for that matter. Quieting up and suddenly looking much more serious in the presence of the Ocean’s Light, I find some measure of amusement in the fact that even the Indomitable seems to be subdued by her nymph-like presence. Trying to garner strength from both her and Erebos as we wade into topics that hurt, or are flatly offensive, I find my smiles gone, replaced with tight lipped hostility, and though I had tried to retain a neutral stance, my muscles have grown taut, and my ears slowly edge back at the audacity of these lies, and the blatant disregard of all that I had just said. It is as if Erebos knows that the words that are to fall from my mouth if I speak with this face on are the sort that would burn kingdoms down. With more gusto than he has spoken of anything since the death of the Reaper, he defends our land, and offers the desert dwellers their petty answer as to what became of the one individual who had ever mistreated her: a truth that I would have withheld, out of anger, and spite. My heart roils with the aftermath of what I had thought to be absent feelings for her, shattered and broken. It is has been so long for me, to have thought of her as more than a memory, blurred and faded, lacquered in dust, that this… betrayal feels like fire racing through my veins. What else had she falsely claimed? Who else of this realm, which had sheltered her when her own kin had cast her to death, had she sullied with her misconstrued, selfish words? If words and stares are torture than we are all victims of vices and knives. Even her assailant merely groped at her with words. What a cowardly, selfish brat, I want to spit, contempt for my sister driving each limb to tremble and quake, as I force myself into silence. "When did she tell you these… tales?" I ask, cold fire gently lapping up from the inferno which broils behind my suddenly hard, golden eyes. During or after the Rift Wars? Before or after Erebos and I confronted her for abandoning the family that had loved her, for the one which had left her to die? I shouldn’t have plead with mother to spare her. I should have let the summer heat devour her. But like a foolish boy, I had wanted her to live… I had… I did… How could she...? Why…? Why did the people I love always do this to me? I barely hear as we start to talk of Kaos, trade, and unity.. All I can think about is Aithniel’s laughter, her praise, her worried shouts as I slipped and fall into the snow, into the lake, down a hillside, always so full of abandon, and careless, in all the ways she was watching, waiting, tender… I want to go away, find mother’s collapsed cave where we used to lay and fall asleep together, entwined, and kick the rocks until my ankles bleed, and my hooves chip away, and the night becomes the day, and loops back again. Part of me wants to shout at the Sun, or at Ampere and Volterra, because it’s better than remembering all the ways she had been perfect, to have this terrible red line marked through them. I’d thought I didn’t miss her, that I’d carefully packed every memory and though of her away into a mental closet, with a clearly labeled door. I would have sworn it, five minutes ago. "Yeah, that sounds good," I answer with zero emotional intonation; whatever to the spars, to the thieving. What does it matter? Everyone does as they want, anyway. Might as well have some sort of safe guard in place with which to keep feelings that aren’t already smashed from getting hurt, I suppose – and it also means I can go get this stupid girl out of my system somewhere that much quicker. "We can start spars in Frostfall, yeah? Give everyone time to get the word out to each other." this is not destruction this is your birth — |
