ask no questions

“I’m not sure they were very traditional faeries. More like your Gods in that they were horse-like sized and shaped, they just kept that wild, tricksy personality.” Literally destroyed everything they created and flipped it on it’s head and make the population start over again. Yea, she’d call them wicked, but let Rikyn think what he wanted on the matter. She didn’t care, really. About what he thought in regards to her version of faeries versus his, but also, she didn’t care about what happened to her home. Perhaps she should. But it had never been hers, really. It had been her mother’s, a shadow she did not want to live under.

In truth, she did not want to live under anyone’s shadow. She was her own mare. One who maybe saw a handsome boy in front of her, but he seemed too boring to be her type. Nice enough and all, but she liked the reckless and the playful and so far, he seemed like none of these things to her. Maybe it was the wrong context for such things, but she didn’t think there was ever a wrong context. This, of course, was the point of it all, that they could think and the wild things could not. But her faeries thought. Made up rules and then made them real. So she left. Because coupling wild and thinking together into one being is a terrible thing.

She’s not so far from those things, but she’s just far enough.

He answers her question, naming two other gods for the other two herds. Which all makes sense, she supposes. Who ruled though? Who controlled the actions of the Gods? It seemed they have four separate entities controlling them here, and she couldn’t help but wonder how that worked. Being controlled by siblings, and even though they were Gods, they were still siblings. And she didn’t know any siblings that didn’t bicker from time to time. It sounded like a terrible idea and quite a lot of fun, all at once.

And then he’s talking about Kaos, and she pricks her ears to listen. “He mentioned something about that. Coming back from the dead or whatever. What happened?” He may be kind of boring, but he’s the wealth of information. Information Weaver doesn’t have. And she may be a fighter, but she’s not stupid. Knowledge is just as powerful as magic or a good strong kick to the face. She wants to understand the past of the place where she hopes to help shape the future.

She, of all people, knows that being born someone doesn’t necessarily make it the place for you to live. But it’s still home. The Chamber, in its way, will always be home for her. It’s where she started. It’s the place that shaped her into a pretty little monster. It’s home. Home in a different way from the Basin, but still home. But the Chamber is gone, so even if she’d wanted to stay, she didn’t have that option.  

“Leave?” she says with a laugh, a playful glint to her amber eyes. “Do you think me so chicken as to leave over a story?” True or not, she’s hardly about to run. Her father infected entire forests and let them rot and die, killing everything that depended on the flora for life. Her mother stopped the heart of an innocent girl just to start a bloody war with no end. Weaver faced the four horsemen of the apocolypse, and quite literally fought until her last breath. No, Weaver doesn’t run from much.

“I won’t tell him. I already offend him enough, as it is.” Which is entirely true. She’d pretty sure all of her just offends him. And she could literally gesture to her whole self for that statement. “Though I wouldn’t assume so quickly you can hurt me.” She can’t help herself. He probably can, but she still can’t help herself.

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies