She has never thought of herself as being naïve. That was for small creatures that she has considered to be weak, making themselves a victim to the life they have found themselves in. She scolds them for not taking a stand, to change the life they are living.
But she is naïve herself.
She blinds herself in making the choice to dance with the devil. Allowing him to lead every step of the way, between the darkness and light, in between it all. She dances in the lines that holds them together, mirroring opposites. But she cannot help it, she cannot let it go.
It is almost an addiction; the times she has allowed herself to meld with those she swore she should never be with. There had beeen Tarnished. Then there had been Etojo. And now there was him, this stranger, this monster.
Her mind is telling her no, screaming for her to run, but she does not. Her heart, her empty soul begs to be filled with life again (or even dancing on the very edge of it all too, if it must). Her heart tells her yes.
Lucrezia only has eyes for the silver buckskin. She is confused by his small amount of anger, but he quickly consumes her again, pleading for her to understand. And she follows him, into the darkness, into the fear.
She feels what he feels.
The fear seeps into her. Overwhelming her more than she has never felt before. Terrified than she has ever been in her life. She feels the dread he feels, the weight of it holding her down, pinning her to the ground. It crawls underneath her skin, twisting and engraving it into her bones. It flows into her bloodstream, taking over her entire body.
Her gaze widens suddenly, horror filling them. She is horrified by his words, but even more by the way he throws himself at the nearby trees. Her body begins to shake uncontrollably.
She remembers.
“P-P-Pollock will kill us both,” she whispers through chattering teeth. Her gaze moves to the surrounding forest, searching as if he was just around the corner of a bush or tree.
Lucrezia then meets his gaze again, his terrified wide-eyes mirrors her own expression. “P-Please,” she begs, staggering towards him in skittish steps. “I-I need to go with you. I have t-to go with yo-u-u.”
She could not be left alone. She could not die.
“I'll do any-y-ything,” she begs, “I s-swear.”
But she is naïve herself.
She blinds herself in making the choice to dance with the devil. Allowing him to lead every step of the way, between the darkness and light, in between it all. She dances in the lines that holds them together, mirroring opposites. But she cannot help it, she cannot let it go.
It is almost an addiction; the times she has allowed herself to meld with those she swore she should never be with. There had beeen Tarnished. Then there had been Etojo. And now there was him, this stranger, this monster.
Her mind is telling her no, screaming for her to run, but she does not. Her heart, her empty soul begs to be filled with life again (or even dancing on the very edge of it all too, if it must). Her heart tells her yes.
Lucrezia only has eyes for the silver buckskin. She is confused by his small amount of anger, but he quickly consumes her again, pleading for her to understand. And she follows him, into the darkness, into the fear.
She feels what he feels.
The fear seeps into her. Overwhelming her more than she has never felt before. Terrified than she has ever been in her life. She feels the dread he feels, the weight of it holding her down, pinning her to the ground. It crawls underneath her skin, twisting and engraving it into her bones. It flows into her bloodstream, taking over her entire body.
Her gaze widens suddenly, horror filling them. She is horrified by his words, but even more by the way he throws himself at the nearby trees. Her body begins to shake uncontrollably.
She remembers.
“P-P-Pollock will kill us both,” she whispers through chattering teeth. Her gaze moves to the surrounding forest, searching as if he was just around the corner of a bush or tree.
Lucrezia then meets his gaze again, his terrified wide-eyes mirrors her own expression. “P-Please,” she begs, staggering towards him in skittish steps. “I-I need to go with you. I have t-to go with yo-u-u.”
She could not be left alone. She could not die.
“I'll do any-y-ything,” she begs, “I s-swear.”
@[bruise]
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