So... Where was that crystal skin now; the promised embrace? Instead of caressing arms there was only the feeling of ruin left in patches on her skin. The smell of limbs being cut off running, dancing within the fumes of chaos, filling her lungs with a kind of drought she had not meant to breath in - but did so anyway. So perhaps In her darkest hour she was thankful for her sightless eyes, the black tar gluing shut her gaze so that she couldn't see. For, even though shattered and broken, she knew this was a world of mirrors.
The water still quivered around her hooves, although it had calmed down now, now that the fight was seemingly over. Seemingly so easily glued back together as if nothing had happened. The tragic scent of that almost made her huff. Yet it still seemed to have transferred its drill and her shoulders were shaking now instead; pulled into a mere numbing kind of embrace. Which was nice, because her shoulders were burned by the God’s blood once again, and her aching eyes (her skin) were laying in that rosy bed of aching pain and numbing trembling. Somehow she still stood on all fours, alive and well and she breathed heavily through her oozy lungs that drought, because she didn’t have a choice.
Suddenly she remembered talking to Ërthe. Why this flashback was occurring now she didn’t know, but it made her feel slightly sick. How could she have insisted she had known, how could she have insisted she was aware of how the world turned beneath there too mortal hooves. Because I’m old. Old and wise, so I should’ve known. But the truth was that there had never once in her life been a test she had to pass, never been a examinator telling her her way of thinking was a good or bad one, that her mind was a healthy orb; that she did not sin. Was she, then, perfect — Yet somehow she had been the one that had judged her own grade of righteousness.
And she remembered that too; the swing of her sword and the blow against her shield: The throwing of hooves against the skin of the false God that had stood in her precious, precious light. He deserved it, she managed to finally think in her for a long time silenced mind. She had had the bravery to attack the now dead crocodile god, but she hadn’t dared to get her thoughts together when it had all been said and done. She had asked and then walked away from it all. But still..— she thought and then sighed.
So, since she didn’t have that promised crystal embrace, she took her damp mist and curled it around her instead, felt only the bittersweet warmth from the knowledge of having protected her patron.
She ignored the blackness that dripped along her nose and out of her mouth, but, through the aftertaste of victory, it tasted bitter and weak with a hint of defeat. Then she heard someone scream and she instinctively looked up and moved towards that loud noise’s source, because she thought it felt awkwardly familiar, although there was nothing nice to see in these shattered mirror shards.
The echoes returned and she remembered all the words she and Shadow had exchanged, and she wondered when exactly in this sunlit, but seemingly forsaken time the birds had left their trees. And she randomly wondered if it had been the trembling, or perhaps the lack of that embrace.
Summary: Maren thinks stuffs and then spreads her mists a bit around her and then walks up to Ërthe and Shadow
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SWP :: You thought it was over? So did I. (CONCLUSION)
