𝐢𝐢. 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐝𝐞𝐫

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                         𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: powder

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                   𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨: powder

   ╰┈➤ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: aviva is a plant murderer

❝ Know this, my child: you are a child of the universe

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Know this, my child: you are a child of the universe.




Silco had etched those words into her soul from the moment she could form thoughts, reciting them like a prayer "I am not your father, and you'll never know your mother. You may never truly understand where you came from, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that your existence is a gift—a gift from the universe."

It was, without a doubt, the least comforting thing he'd ever told her. Eight years of that hollow mantra hadn't softened the blow. Aviva wasn't a "gift"—she was a prisoner. If she was so precious to the people of Zaun, then why had she never been allowed to meet them? Twelve years of pacing the same dreary halls, and somehow, she hadn't lost her mind.

Or maybe she had. Hard to tell when you don't have a frame of reference, but if this was insanity, it felt disappointingly mundane.

It wasn't for lack of trying. Lord knows she'd made more escape attempts than Silco's men could keep track of. Yet somehow, they always dragged her back. And for a man who supposedly spent every waking moment fighting for Zaun's independence, Silco sure managed to be home a lot.

Except today.

Today, the universe had handed her a rare gift: an empty house. As she sat in the bathtub, smearing dark blue dye over her stubborn white roots, she whispered her gratitude to whoever was listening above. Over and over again, as if thanking them enough might buy her a little more freedom.

It wasn't exactly the smartest move to sneak out with freshly dyed, still-dripping hair, but if she was already breaking her "father's" number-one rule, she wasn't about to break the second: never let her white hair show.

A rule, of course, that he had declared required no explanation.

She ran a towel over her hair, not even bothering to comb it properly. Reaching into her closet, she grabbed a new, pristine cloak and shrugged it over the nearly black blue mess atop her head—something between midnight and ink, dark enough to disappear into shadows. Exactly what she hoped to do.

❛ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 ❜ ━━ (arcane)Where stories live. Discover now