Dragoncrest Cliffs we want them to say, damn, these bitches can paint—
wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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#7
Everything Blodreina had said had sounded welcoming, agreeable. But then, there it was — “cheka,” and Aure wilted. A moniker (a word, no less) shouldn't have the right to have such sway over oneself. Perhaps it remained true for the stalwart; and Aurëwen herself had attempted such. Had attempted to make herself all frozen and fury and unfeeling, as Blodreina herself proclaimed to have done. But she could not, for she felt too much, and to this day it remained both blessing and curse; could not smother what she felt no matter how hard she tried. So, she ended up like she was now: stilted, staggered, unsure of how to make herself all stoic and such.

Chekas. They don’t cry, do they? Her mind murmured to her, then, and she lingered before Blodreina with such a void, regret-ridden expression that made the silly tears on her lashes seem even sillier. The week-ago memories were murky and suppressed; but a tremor came to her marred façade as Verx arrived at the forefront her mind, all Stormborn and leaving her stricken with words of lightning. She almost felt the phantom kiss of his fangs on her muzzle, from so long ago.

Aure had known what she’d been poking at, despite the way it’d ended; had still tried regardless. Still missed him terribly; needed to soothe what was between them. What she’s done, as brave-stupid and stupid-brave it may have been. But... Of course they don’t cry. How else could have Reina become such? Of course they don’t. And it’d been her fault, her err, to remake that ideology.

All through this, she wilted. Eyes went heavy-lidded, brow eased, and her mouth pressed into into a meager frown. She didn’t know what to feel, but she’d deserved it, right? For all of her stars, her remedies, she was still a stupid, soft brana, wasn’t she? The silver had forgotten her place — and continued to do so, demanding a gona to fight her? Protect her? Brana brana brana, she was brana, undeserving brana. Unworthy of a cheka’s children, of- of speaking to the former one in front of her, of so much more.

Aure arced away from Blodreina, withdrew further into herself as the fur along her spine shivered to life. Kept her scarred eyes low, properly aversive, M-multumesc, Blodreina. I appreciate ze proposition. Very much so. It— it very generous. More than I could ever ask for, yes. E-excuse me.” With a thinly-veiled, weak smile, Aure shimmied a few steps away, as if meaning to flit from this.
Messages In This Thread
RE: we want them to say, damn, these bitches can paint— - by Andraste - March 05, 2019, 03:34 PM