uncertainty hangs over the saint like a gauzy tulle veil. with the care of the wolves of sapphique her strength has returned. she is still thin and hollowcheeked but she feels better than she has felt in ... longer than she can remember.
she yawns and stretches and crawls out of the roja den to rise to her feet outside of it. her weight, perhaps a bit more than she had when she'd first arrived, feels strange. if there was a part of the saint that hopes she would've perished tragically to be elevated to martyrdom it has died instead.
she owes a great debt to the wolves that took her in and saved her life, that fed her.
the tangy taste and salt of the sea hangs heavy in the air and despite the sirens and sea's rejection of her, finds something akin to comfort in each breath she takes.
unworthy
she yawns and stretches and crawls out of the roja den to rise to her feet outside of it. her weight, perhaps a bit more than she had when she'd first arrived, feels strange. if there was a part of the saint that hopes she would've perished tragically to be elevated to martyrdom it has died instead.
she owes a great debt to the wolves that took her in and saved her life, that fed her.
the tangy taste and salt of the sea hangs heavy in the air and despite the sirens and sea's rejection of her, finds something akin to comfort in each breath she takes.
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