dead beat {Pollock}

[Hestia]

the cat and the fiddle

She watched the days turn by slowly, each one bringing a new victim a new death. A few secrets revealed. Slowly the layers were pealing away. Strangely he was a lot more sociable then she had ever thought he could be.

She waits in the distance, still polite to his privacy. She couldn't say that she was ungrateful to him for doing this to her, but at the same time, she couldn't say that she was happy about it either. This all just felt as a simple reminder to her that her life was not ment to be happy.

A solitary tear sparkles in her eye, but it does not fall, no she had sworn off tears a long time ago and no she would not begin them now. She couldn't say that she didn't have it coming, she should have recognized the signs. Should have seen this coming from a mile away. But truth be told she didn't.

No instead she is stuck watching her murderer. It couldn't be Fennick, couldn't be Kryten, couldn't be Eona. No it had to be the man that had been her demise. She was stuck with him just as much as he was stuck wtih her.

Always lingering in the shadows, always listening to his every word. Ever bored with the mundain life he led. Then again she couldn't let him know that he was just like her, and the wandering from one place to another was exactly what she herself had done for most of her life. Never had she settled into a place perminantly. Never had she been one to keep to one home.

Beqanna owned her soul, she would never be able to part with the land, it was a part of her soul, just as the air and water were one and the same. But now standing here, the trees do not sway, the bushes do not wisper, the grasses do not part, the waters do not bow before. No she is dead to them, she is dead to the world and all that she holds dear. Yet letting go of any of it felt more than impossible for her to do.

This was the exact reason she feared death, this was the exact reason that she had been grateful for her immortality. She never wanted this, never wanted to be a ghost watching as others pass through her, as others pass over her. As no one notices that the mare was there able to see and hear everything that was going on. You know you can come closer. Her ear flickers around listening as he begins to aproach her.

Her carcass, rotting, almost completely cleaned to its bones. There seemed to be almsot nothing left of her. A sort of detached blink as it is crawlign with the festering bugs of death. not one for a decent clean up I see She muses dryly at this.

Hestia

The living dead

@[pollock]