10-10-2022, 01:58 AM
Ryatah
She does not question him further on the curse, and instead only gives a faint, silent nod of her head. Curses and magic were tricky things, based on her experience with both. If there is one thing her often tumultuous life has taught her is that nothing is permanent, and nothing is ever for certain.
She has no doubt that if the curse wanted to find a way into a new host that it would do so, and she is sure Gale does not need to be reminded of this.
He asks her if she is alright, and a strange look passes over her face. Perhaps it is the surprise of being asked the question by the very individual that had brought her harm, because she cannot recall that ever happening. Apologies were a rarity for her, and they often came disguised as something else—illusions of beloved places long-gone, being surrounded by and covered in stars, or sometimes simply ignoring a previous conflict and letting it slip away.
“I’m fine,” she finally answers, but even to her it sounds incomplete, empty. She is fine, she supposes, in the same way that she has always been fine. Brokenness had become normal so long ago that she does not remember anything else, and in a way the void was simply one more scar, one more haunted memory. But even she knew that the void had changed her in a far more visceral way than anything she had experienced prior—that the darkness had crept in through all of her cracks, and now it lived alongside her heart and blood and bones.
There is a small smile that pulls at her lips, an attempt to ignore the unease that shifts in her chest whenever she thinks of the infinite dark, the impossible silence, and the madness that had followed her for months after returning. “I must say, of all the times that I have died that is the first that I ended up somewhere like…that.” She can’t help but to think of Carnage, and how the void reminded her of the way he could build worlds to fit his every whim—and how not even he had subjected her to such a place. “It wasn’t my favorite, if I’m being honest, I think I preferred the bottom of the sea.” She is not sure if he will find humor in her morbid lightheartedness, but she smiles all the same, and then asks, “Will you be staying in the Pampas?”
She has no doubt that if the curse wanted to find a way into a new host that it would do so, and she is sure Gale does not need to be reminded of this.
He asks her if she is alright, and a strange look passes over her face. Perhaps it is the surprise of being asked the question by the very individual that had brought her harm, because she cannot recall that ever happening. Apologies were a rarity for her, and they often came disguised as something else—illusions of beloved places long-gone, being surrounded by and covered in stars, or sometimes simply ignoring a previous conflict and letting it slip away.
“I’m fine,” she finally answers, but even to her it sounds incomplete, empty. She is fine, she supposes, in the same way that she has always been fine. Brokenness had become normal so long ago that she does not remember anything else, and in a way the void was simply one more scar, one more haunted memory. But even she knew that the void had changed her in a far more visceral way than anything she had experienced prior—that the darkness had crept in through all of her cracks, and now it lived alongside her heart and blood and bones.
There is a small smile that pulls at her lips, an attempt to ignore the unease that shifts in her chest whenever she thinks of the infinite dark, the impossible silence, and the madness that had followed her for months after returning. “I must say, of all the times that I have died that is the first that I ended up somewhere like…that.” She can’t help but to think of Carnage, and how the void reminded her of the way he could build worlds to fit his every whim—and how not even he had subjected her to such a place. “It wasn’t my favorite, if I’m being honest, I think I preferred the bottom of the sea.” She is not sure if he will find humor in her morbid lightheartedness, but she smiles all the same, and then asks, “Will you be staying in the Pampas?”
EVEN ANGELS HAVE THEIR WICKED SCHEMES
@Gale