Altar of Twilight but god, all I ever do is feel

it's a bit barbaric, don't you think?

she had been unsure what to expect when she'd arrived to crogeda — a series of fights where child was pitted against child to fight to death for the official title of commander — but she had remembered a small feeling that it was wrong. she glimpses at her marred shoulder then, contemplating dragomir's words quietly as she mentally repeats the name of each life she took. it is the way, and if she is barbaric then ...she was what she was. this, any of it; all of it was all she had left of blodreina. she knows nothing else, wants to know nothing else because letting go of it all in favor of the unknown is like letting go of her mother.

probably, praimfaya shrugs. thyri — the leader of the pack i went to — didn't say. and it hadn't been praimfaya's place to ask. she had been there for one purpose and one purpose only.

it's pretty, isn't it? she asks then, changing the subject as she gestures to the ethereal moonglow of the vale cast from the stone wall; wondering if it made her sound 'girly'. it's why i came out here. she admits. not that it was a good excuse to ignore the rules and wander by herself; admiring it from afar hadn't been as nearly satisfying as being soaked in reflected moonglow.