Nova Peak Splitting

She sighed and turned a quick circle before daintily taking a seat. It was worth a shot. (And at least she had grown out of throwing fits and pouting whenever someone refused to upchuck for her.) Sitting prim and proper, she canted her head at the names Masquerade presented – two of them in jest – and her wide eyes blinked fast, as if processing.

She knew what she wanted to be called, but it was none of those things. Her toes dug restlessly into the gravel as she wrestled internally with telling her chosen name to Masquerade or talking about what she wanted to discuss. In the end, as it always was with her, she chose the latter.

The mountaintop is going to fall. It’s turning into sand, she said wistfully, sighing again as her eyes drifted elsewhere. Then she peeked at Masquerade from beneath hooded lashes, and in a rare bit of bluntness, she added, you’re hurt.