.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
03-17-2016, 01:34 PM
|
Isopia in places deep with roots entwined i live among you, well disguised At first, Isopia doesn’t know what to make of what she perceives as surprise in his voice. She might have been somewhat ignorant of babies and how they went about being created, but she assumed that Volterra certainly wasn’t. He was the one well versed in the methods of their creation, after all. Regardless, her bitterness prevent any sort of empathy or understanding from tempering his surprise. A more neutral-minded Isopia might have allowed some small forgiveness to come over her - that if perhaps he was unaware of his progeny, then perhaps that ought to temper the blame she ascribed to him. But she wasn’t neutral-minded. She was heartbroken, and furious, and drowning in guilt. For all that she had given him - love and life - she would not give him this. He would never have her forgiveness. And so her massive shoulders shrugged in confirmation, so casually cruel in the face of - if surprise was truly what he was feeling - this new information. She will not have a choice. Isopia’s draconic jaws clenched together beneath beaded scales. That isn’t the point, she thought harshly, wondering if perhaps his brain was as dense as other parts of him proved to be. The point was to imply that she knew enough of Sikeax and Zhu to even articulate the statement that the unicorn wouldn’t approve. But Isopia’s subtleties backfired, as it was her gut that clenched in a cold black mass at the thought of Volterra forcing Sikeax to do anything. Partially because the thought of them together - of him with anyone else was still too much to bear in the wake of the catastrophic misunderstandings on her part - but the mere idea of him acting as though he owned her - or their child - made her nauseas. Would he have thought the same of their unborn child, had it been allowed to survive? Did he think the same of her now? Her piercing gaze scrutinized him for a moment, daring him to even think that he owned her. I assumed you would want to know. "Why would I want to know?” She replied immediately, her voice like the dust that hasn’t yet settled after a rockslide: dry, but with the ability to choke the life from your lungs without you even knowing it. But then, all those verbal daggers she had cast his way, came back to her. Isopia was no master manipulator. She had gotten what she needed from Ashamin, but that had been happenstance. He had been a willing participant, easily led by her poor taunts. She had fooled herself into thinking that she was capable of something like manipulation - for all of her wisdom, manipulation required knowing more about others, than she currently did. She was too far removed from the typical condition of the rest of Helovia, that it was ludicrous to think that she could somehow sway their beliefs and plant bombs in their minds, without knowing anything about how those systems actually worked. His lips and ears move, but not with the brokenness that she had been aiming for. The daggers she thrust towards him veered, swerving back towards her. What are you trying to show me, kis hollo? Be straight with me - you know I haven’t the patience for games like this. His words hit her like a weight. It pressed somewhere on her throat and chest, like she was being crushed. She suddenly wished that she had never become horse-like at all, that she had stayed a dragon where she was powerful and huge. Like this, while still larger than him, she was something that he had conquered. Something that he had used, and she felt every bit as discarded and dirty as the trees that he might have rubbed up against to scratch off some mud. The weight spread to the rest of her body, freezing her with the cold vastness of grief and despair. In her minds eye she saw the two of them, coupled together. Only now, the pleasant songs of her body had been grotesquely distorted, and now served as a funeral prelude over her dead son - an image that wrapped itself around her mind and blotted out any lingering fondness for Volterra. It was so easy to hate him, filled and fuelled by such a pristine and condensed sadness. It was like that ball of grief and despair inside of her was so small and weighty, that its gravity pulled in and destroyed everything else inside of herself. Perhaps it was even easier, given that he didn’t understand what it was she was trying to communicate. The panicked and anxious swell that his words caused in the back of her throat made her want to laugh in his face for his stupidity, but also to scream at him for it. She both needed him to understand that hateful things she felt towards him - the things she knew about him that he didn’t even know, but also his failings as a man - but also felt like it wasn’t worth her time. Which would hurt him more? To know the depths of her anger and malice? Or to know that he wasn’t even worth the words it would take to explain? Isopia’s mind, as neutral and calm as it normally was, wasn’t in any way competent in this sort of calculus, and so the decision lingered on her tongue like an ice cube. Burning and numbing her, even as the time to make a decision ran out. Her mind groped towards things she might say, while still haughty and vague, that would illicit the understanding she needed from him. But her hate was too large, and her grief too loud. And so, unable to adequately decipher how best to destroy him, she opted for the latter option. "Nothing.” She replied coldly. Flatly. Her wings spread from her sides, and mentally she prodded Hubris. They needed to leave. The earthen-girl retreated a step or two, her wings already catching a hold of the slight breeze. But one last dagger lingered on her tongue. She had tried to hold it back, knowing that it, if nothing else, would communicate at least part of her intention. But she didn’t really mean it. It was just something nasty and hostile that she could hold onto, that made her feel powerful. And so, thoughtlessly, she let it fly towards him, consequences be damned. "And that isn’t my name.” She uttered, her golden gaze steady upon his own, her face hardened and masked. Quickly, she turned, throwing herself into the air and allowing her wings to pull her swiftly from the ground. Wide-eyed, Hubris looked to the trio he was left with. Quickly he snatched the Isopia figurine - it had fallen on the ground when Isopia had transformed back into herself. The Volterra figurine was still nearer to the tree - blocked by Volterra. The dragon wasn’t entirely sure what Isopia’s little last word in was going to do to the equine, and so the bronze decided it was best to just get a move on. Clutching the Isopia figurine carefully, he trilled a goodbye to the gold and to the red, wondering whether or not he would see them again. And if he did, on what terms. His blue gaze fell sadly upon Volterra for just a moment, before he followed his bonded into the sky. |
Sorry for the wait ;-; I'm the worst forever, x100000000000
@Volterra
