The Sentinels medicate. meditate.

@Andr for reference. (Apologies, I just have too much muse for her currently. This is read only but feel free to reference any of this in your current threads. Also, we haven't quite discussed it yet but I'd say at this point in time, you could also feel free to pp Iaghe in your threads in general. <3)

There was only Iaghe. And the night. 

Like so many others. A night spent in prayers beneath the moon's pale countenance. 

Only now, she could not be sure who she was praying to -- indeed, Iaghe could scarcely remember having preformed the act before. 

Foolish. Selfish. Loathsome. 

The dark bird paced to and fro -- some distance from the burnt remains, for fear of venturing too close to the sight of destruction. Her gait was more or less a limp these days but it did little to hinder her agitated, neurotic spirit. Only her speed seemed effected in truth. 

She wanted to scream the words at something. To dare. To inquire. 

But all that came forth when she whirled indignantly, facing the direction of the forest's blackened innards, was parted lips. A gasping sound that could not bring forth the absolute rage directed towards the glen.

Towards the girl, Ursula. 

Towards herself. 

How could she have drawn him into that hell? 

How could he have come?

Why did he come? 

Why was he always saving her?

What did he care if she lived or died?

Why did she care if he cared?

Whywhywhywhywhy

"Enough," the word was not a shout as it grated from the gravel of her throat. It was broken, halting, begging. 

Iaghe was left blinking in surprise, the taste of panic upon her tongue. She tried again to produce the sound but nothing was forthcoming. 

Perhaps there were too many words in her head. 

The woman deflated. Eyes falling in disappointment -- directed at herself. Her ears wilted against her crown, shoulders curling inwards as if she could protect herself from the weight that came crashing down. 

There were so many things to say.

To Andr. Now that they had survived what they had, together. 

I have been trying to go home for as long as I remember and I'm terrified I will splinter into a thousand tiny pieces and I already have, it does not matter and I have a disgusting need to be more than I am and I am destroying myself so no one else can and everything I wish to say, I swallow and the shame of being seen consumes me and I have lost the line between self preservation and self slaughter and help me, remind me why I am here and you are so quiet and brave, I wonder if you suffer too and my anger is bleeding into grief and I know not what to do. 

Andandandand.

A sudden urge overtook her as she gave a violent shake of her head. Stilling, she cast her gaze upon the earthen floor of the forest.

It started with a small slash. And then grew. Until the winterborne had clawed and scraped and attacked and lashed out against the dirt until all that was left was her. 

Panting. 

Gasping.

Blinking back moisture.

Hating herself for reasons she could not remember.

All that was left was only Iaghe. And the moon.