10-26-2020, 10:16 PM
Aela isn't her only ghost. Nerine no longer smokes, but parts still show scorches in the rock, and there will be no fixing the inlet-turned-bay where she dredged ancient darkness from its place sleeping beneath the rocks. She still has not found Brennen, and this failure weighs on her as well, the grief making her short tempered and defensive. The ebony stallion grins and it infuriates her. What can he possibly have to be so happy about. She returns his grins with a snarl flavored by leonine canines curving dangerously against her grey lips and glinting in the faint gleam of light.
"Cassian." She hates him immediately, if only because she dislikes herself so deeply, "You are in my way, Cassian."
It's easier not to like him, though, than to admit her mistake. Easier to focus the anger and hurt and disappointment on him, especially when he answers her so glibly; easier to find a reason to make this his fault. He shouldn't have been standing across the path, and maybe she should have been watching where she was going, but some horses can't see at all and might have been injured. The longer she muses on this, the duskier her coat becomes, layer upon layer of darkness coming to cling to her skin as it always does when anxiety makes her heart pound and her mind race, and in the cool shadowy embrace of her magic, and the inflammatory wandering of her thoughts, she becomes quickly convinced of her own interpretation of events. Rather than go around or ask him to move, she blunders into him again, jaw clenched and ears set back and the lion in her belly snarling to be let out
He will move, or she will claw him to pieces, she decides without realizing she has decided it, and shoves her golden chest against his hip as though to bulldoze him from the trail.
"You could have hurt someone, do you even care? Get. Off. The. Path!"
"Cassian." She hates him immediately, if only because she dislikes herself so deeply, "You are in my way, Cassian."
It's easier not to like him, though, than to admit her mistake. Easier to focus the anger and hurt and disappointment on him, especially when he answers her so glibly; easier to find a reason to make this his fault. He shouldn't have been standing across the path, and maybe she should have been watching where she was going, but some horses can't see at all and might have been injured. The longer she muses on this, the duskier her coat becomes, layer upon layer of darkness coming to cling to her skin as it always does when anxiety makes her heart pound and her mind race, and in the cool shadowy embrace of her magic, and the inflammatory wandering of her thoughts, she becomes quickly convinced of her own interpretation of events. Rather than go around or ask him to move, she blunders into him again, jaw clenched and ears set back and the lion in her belly snarling to be let out
He will move, or she will claw him to pieces, she decides without realizing she has decided it, and shoves her golden chest against his hip as though to bulldoze him from the trail.
"You could have hurt someone, do you even care? Get. Off. The. Path!"
@[Cassian]