"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Their plan. Beyza doesn’t respond to this, isn’t sure if she trusts herself to. She believed in that plan with all that she was, believed in him - would have used all her gifts to enhance his and been his shadow, his moon. And she isn’t sure if she believes that she deserves more, but she thinks she wants more - wants it enough that it does not matter whether she deserves it or not. She wants the chance to live, to feel like she is more than the echo of her beloved twin or the catalyst to Jamie’s might. To discover what she wants for herself and not because she’s trying to craft a world where Jamie will stay by her side and see her as something worthy.
She doesn’t so much as flinch when he steps forward, though she is still wreathed in her electricity - pale eyes locked on him. The sparks around her are the only sign of movement, the only glimmer of life as she stands utterly still.
It hurts to know that she remembers every instance where he has touched her because it had always felt like too little, and how when they had made their daughters it had finally started to feel like enough. Beyza won’t speak of that, though, unwilling to voice the near-desperation for his acceptance that had driven her since he first avoided looking at her and then later, how deeply she craved his affection.
Her voice is quiet like his, sharp like her brightness. “They may have been your idea but they are not yours.” She blinks then, once, and speaks before she can reconsider whether it’s wise. Maybe she just wants to see what he’ll do, maybe she wants to see him come completely untethered so she can use it as justification for what she says next.
Though something like fire sparks in her gaze when she speaks, her voice is still low and she is still so still as she waits, standing amongst the deep black fog like a bolt of lightning frozen in time.
“I’m taking them, and you will never see them again.”
