09-12-2020, 10:21 PM
GRETA
I once held your soldier heart between my war teeth; shook it like a dog with a bone until it knew the fear of good love.
" Do you remember? "
The world is too much and not enough for the shadow of a girl. Beqanna is a bottomless fathom or possibilities- a reckless adventure that awaits her (and her shackles). Those shackles, the ones she does not quite understand - the declaration inside her that she must obey. Certainly it is a gift (curse?) from her father? Hadn’t he always said that a good girl is one that does what is told?
Their conversation was torn asunder- a moment of history riddled upon her soul, questions thrown to her that she was not readied to answer. Eons of yearning to know stretched before her- tell her more, she must know, she needs to hear.
The painted sorceress faded suddenly, as did the dreams she called into Greta’s soul. Called elsewhere more important, she supposed. Something she was quite familiar with; how quickly her father appeared and disappeared, leaving her to rot and wither and never age inside his glass fishbowl.
But where, but where? Her body aches with the want to spill open her lips and give the painted witch her answer. She had said “Tell me who your father is.” But she had left before given an answer. Greta’s tongue burns, her head aches, her body tears in two with the wont to heed and obey.
It did not take her long to find the ‘where’ - her soul calling her to where she needs to obey. She followed the acrid smell of smoke and disaster, the taste of it ripe with familiarity from her wretch of a father. A fire bright and mighty, eating up the earth. There are creatures in the sky, and screaming on the horizon, and the thick suffocation of panic in her throat.
This - this is unlike anything she has seen. It is like the snowglobe she once lived in - a microcosm of events all hurling themselves together, and she does not know where to look as she crests the land and looks before her. It is chaos, fury, a clashing inside her soul that tears her this way and that.
Her eyes furiously scan the horizon until they settle upon the only soul that is familiar - Straia. She is helpless in the might of all this power - there is nothing she can do except for stay steady, to not run in the face of danger or the unknown. Eight. She furiously thinks. Eight is my father.
Nerine - Greta just came in to find @[Straia] , and sent her thoughts out to Straia letting her know Eight is her daddio. But she's not getting tooo close to the situation since she is defected with obedience and literally still mentally a child and is wowwed by everything (and is also terrified). So if anyone is looking to fuck with her, (or be nice!) feel free.