Cricket Creek Bog if lies were cats you'd be a litter

absalom: was it something i said

his intrusion, in its own way an reenactment of the violation she had suffered at the hands of ithrik, caused a paroxym of distress. indra's throat wrung a snarl and her body staved him off with a shove. he was featureless as a sob wracked her entire being, eyes inscrutably blank and poised for the resistence of her sudden emotional nudity. 
he watched the rose before him wilt and then die. she lost color, and then a breeze picked her up and carried his flower away with it, her moaning with sorrow poignant across the bog. so withholding, she was--not the benevolent woman she thought herself, but a cruel one, for rejecting him.
absalom began to follow the smell of her.