Noctisardor Bypass [m] can you shatter my mirror to see outside myself

Once before she had tried to storm off, and he had kept her here with his words, with threads of hope shimmering in a sun that grew ever dimmer and paler. Now he had no words left for her. None of her anger and accusations were given even a glance, it seemed to Laurel, as he skimmed over them and let them wash over him as he was no more than a puppet, no more than an onlooker rather than a participant in this conversation. It made Laurel feel angry and for a moment she wanted to attack him, to tear him apart — to provoke him. Perhaps it was because of her anger boiling up again or perhaps it was because she was tired of being walked away from. Or perhaps it was because if he chased her out, then at least she could keep telling herself that it was the fault of every pack she had ever been in that she was no longer with them; that it was his fault that she left.

Now instead she felt trapped. She wasn't allowed to stay here, so she must go out and all she could do was expose herself to the outside world. She wanted so badly to take someone with her, but she knew she couldn't. It would destroy whatever shreds of pride Laurel had left.

The dejectedness in his posture frustrated her beyond words; it was the epitome of all she had said, all she had accused him of. He just stood there and took it. Perhaps because he knew that her words were true. Laurel was so sick and tired of men who were just holding out for perfection — and emphasising along the way that she was not it — rather than finding what would make them happy. She was so done with men, and had been for a long time, and yet, somehow, there was always a new one who would wrap their words around her and drag her in with promises of happiness, of peace, of good things.

And sooner or later, it always crashed down.

As he began to turn so did she, unable to stand there and watch him walk out of her life in so many different ways all at once. She wanted to... To reach out to him and tell him again that he deserved to be happy, to attack him and make him hurt her to make him show something resembling emotion, to scream at his face that they were having a conversation over here...

But in the end she did none of it, could do none of it. It was just too painful, and it was clear that he did not care about her, like everybody else in this world.

In the end she shelved it as just another disappointment, and as she turned around, she heard the sound of honeyed venom whispering in her ear, she could feel his hot breath on her neck, she could feel his teeth graze the cups of her ears. Well then, love, let's get going. I cannot wait to see what he will do to you. You are so generous, my dearest, that you would provide me with such a pleasurable show at long last. Laurel grit her teeth and though tears found their way down her cheeks, she did not cry, she did not sob.

She would not give Mahler the satisfaction as he walked away to know that he had hurt her so deeply.