10-10-2018, 01:56 AM
our demons are all around us and they don't come from hell
every single one of them reminds us of ourselves
every single one of them reminds us of ourselves
She supposes that she is glad that what they have is easy—simple despite the fact that they are not simple in any way. But now, in the relative twilight of their life, the crowns and the titles and the responsibility behind them, the very lands that had once clung to their every fiber swallowed up by Beqanna herself, they are allowed to be simple. They are allowed to pretend that they are nothing but two souls who love another, as though they had not commanded armies and led raids and schemed destruction.
But she doesn’t breathe the sins against his flesh.
She just smiles into it, hooded eyes lowering as she makes a soft noise at the back of her throat.
“If I know anything about his parents,” she says quietly into the space between them, a rare twinge of humor to her throaty voice, “then I think that he will do just fine.” She had not been wholly surprised that the two of them had given birth to a hellhound, that they had not brought forth something soft and sweet into this world, and part of her wishes she could love him more like a mother should.
She should have wanted to fret over him, to coddle him, to protect him.
Instead, she had been perfectly fine letting him loose on the world.
Simply stepping back and watching as he made his way out into it.
If that made her cold, then she is certain she can live with the consequences.
Because now, standing next to Rodrik, she doesn’t feel cold. She doesn’t feel alone. She simply feels like they are standing on the precipice of the great unknown, and she doesn’t feel scared at all. Instead she angles her heavy head toward him, the lines that draw her up more masculine than feminine. “So what should we do next, Rodrik?” Her voice is steady as she takes her gaze back to the horizon.
“There’s a lot out there for us to go explore.”