09-01-2015, 06:39 PM
I wanted to leave something besides a blood trail,
besides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
Regardless of whatever she might feel with blood smeared across her cheek or caking her hands, the taste of copper on her tongue and salt in her eyes was always better than the alternative. To be without commands was to be empty enough to let her true thoughts come creeping in each night to haunt her every breath. For now, she only exhaled ghosts of who she really was when no one was watching. Somewhere deep in her gut an entirely different monster stirred and relished in the weakening of life; a death rattle was its lullaby and she had to keep them singing.
Her eyes turn to Straia as she speaks of Cellar being something more than this, more than his pawn or bargaining chip, but she knows better. She says nothing but the silence is filled as Gryffen reprimands her for her thoughts as they hang from her lips as heavy as weights. Cellar's eyes briefly narrow before she catches the spark of anger in her chest. Ribs are cages for a reason, she reminds herself, and tucks the ember away for a better use.
"I was not born for any purpose other than boredom," she says as vague memories flood her mind. Somewhere, not many years ago, a tiny girl had asked her father if he loved her mother. He had answered with cold calculation that he merely ran out of things to do - she was a side effect at best. She'd cried and cried herself to sleep for so many nights until Tyrael told her it was fine to be without purpose, that he would give her purpose. Maybe that was why she had fallen for him and carried a shard of him in her breast even now. He built her up where Vulgaris had broken her down.
"I serve because I know would become something worse if I did not. Don't concern yourself with my burdens," she says to dismiss their concern for her status within the kingdom. She would stay, as she always did, but her mind was not a place to stroll through so casually. Her thoughts were briars and razorwire just waiting to entangle and rip apart.
"What would you like me to do next, Gryffen?"
Cbesides prayers growing stale on my tongue.
Regardless of whatever she might feel with blood smeared across her cheek or caking her hands, the taste of copper on her tongue and salt in her eyes was always better than the alternative. To be without commands was to be empty enough to let her true thoughts come creeping in each night to haunt her every breath. For now, she only exhaled ghosts of who she really was when no one was watching. Somewhere deep in her gut an entirely different monster stirred and relished in the weakening of life; a death rattle was its lullaby and she had to keep them singing.
Her eyes turn to Straia as she speaks of Cellar being something more than this, more than his pawn or bargaining chip, but she knows better. She says nothing but the silence is filled as Gryffen reprimands her for her thoughts as they hang from her lips as heavy as weights. Cellar's eyes briefly narrow before she catches the spark of anger in her chest. Ribs are cages for a reason, she reminds herself, and tucks the ember away for a better use.
"I was not born for any purpose other than boredom," she says as vague memories flood her mind. Somewhere, not many years ago, a tiny girl had asked her father if he loved her mother. He had answered with cold calculation that he merely ran out of things to do - she was a side effect at best. She'd cried and cried herself to sleep for so many nights until Tyrael told her it was fine to be without purpose, that he would give her purpose. Maybe that was why she had fallen for him and carried a shard of him in her breast even now. He built her up where Vulgaris had broken her down.
"I serve because I know would become something worse if I did not. Don't concern yourself with my burdens," she says to dismiss their concern for her status within the kingdom. She would stay, as she always did, but her mind was not a place to stroll through so casually. Her thoughts were briars and razorwire just waiting to entangle and rip apart.
"What would you like me to do next, Gryffen?"
I could give you my body, my flesh,
offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet.
offer it up like a sacrifice, like a banquet.
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