06-28-2017, 12:49 AM
you won’t see me fall apart
Offspring
The name offers the slightest bit of recognition from here, a memory echoing in a past that is hers but disjointed. A black (bay?) stallion that stands near Eight, a figure in a cold Tundra. So many memories that might or might not fit the name he gives. She gives only a curt nod of affirmation - Offspring. The king. Not Eight, not anyone she might know well. It's irrelevant at this point, she's not a child anymore.
She gives a half laugh at the mention of his position - he is doing it now, is he not? It's not an unkind laugh, though things always seem unkind when coming from a face like hers. Mistaken for taunting, for cynicism (though that is an accurate shoe) for other vices on account of the silver that keeps her mouth partially open on the side and her face forever lopsided. "I appreciate the guidance," she says and tries not to sound ironic. She means it, a guide to the underworld is always welcomed.
Why war
why why why why not learn a new skill why not spread your own wings why not fake a limp or a gimp and pretend to have nothing to offer but a warm body why indeed
"It's all I know," she admitted, a bit too honest despite herself. "My father was a general, as was my mother, it was expected. He trained me before he died." She offers a shrug then, rolling shoulders, the pang of his loss no longer a sharp pain and now a dull simmer. An ache. "I doubt I'd be good at much else," she admits, referring to the lull in conversation, the awkward way she is.
The name offers the slightest bit of recognition from here, a memory echoing in a past that is hers but disjointed. A black (bay?) stallion that stands near Eight, a figure in a cold Tundra. So many memories that might or might not fit the name he gives. She gives only a curt nod of affirmation - Offspring. The king. Not Eight, not anyone she might know well. It's irrelevant at this point, she's not a child anymore.
She gives a half laugh at the mention of his position - he is doing it now, is he not? It's not an unkind laugh, though things always seem unkind when coming from a face like hers. Mistaken for taunting, for cynicism (though that is an accurate shoe) for other vices on account of the silver that keeps her mouth partially open on the side and her face forever lopsided. "I appreciate the guidance," she says and tries not to sound ironic. She means it, a guide to the underworld is always welcomed.
Why war
why why why why not learn a new skill why not spread your own wings why not fake a limp or a gimp and pretend to have nothing to offer but a warm body why indeed
"It's all I know," she admitted, a bit too honest despite herself. "My father was a general, as was my mother, it was expected. He trained me before he died." She offers a shrug then, rolling shoulders, the pang of his loss no longer a sharp pain and now a dull simmer. An ache. "I doubt I'd be good at much else," she admits, referring to the lull in conversation, the awkward way she is.
THORUNN
COVET x LIBRETTE