Dragoncrest Cliffs i am a rich pie filled with knowledge, i will not be eaten

furi speaks but all she can hear is the roaring in her ears, all she can taste is acid. her mouth is filled with acid, she could spit acid now, she can't speak or she'll spit acid. she can't speak.

she speaks. "what does that even mean?" the calm in her voice gives way to anger, righteous and comfortable. anger is something familiar and warm. she can make a home in anger. "what did my mother say to you?" she demands, because they were fine -- they'd been fine -- they'd been busy and a little weird with rose but nothing they couldn't solve and all she can think is what happened, what happened, and she can't make up her mind if she's madder at her mother or at furi right now or if she's allowed to be angry at either.

but her mother isn't here right now. her expression wobbles, breaks when furi's does. "i thought we were," blixen manages, but the words aren't reassuring, they're bitter and mean and the unsaid i guess we aren't hangs over them. she can't handle grief and she can't handle loss and she can't handle feelings bigger than teeth in flesh. she can't feel the shape of anything, so she clings to anger, letting the words come up unbidden now, bubbling to the surface in a desperate growl. "or -- or is rose your best friend now," and she knows it's a cheap shot but she can't help it. she is fire and spit and terror and it is all she knows how to be.