'ᴡᴇ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴇɴᴛɪᴍᴇɴᴛ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʙᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴠᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ.'
Only one month has passed in Daliah Viper's life trying to reintegrate at court and follow the uneasy trails her eyes have caught.
One month filled with blood, tribulations, and l...
(ok pls be gentle this was..very hard to write, still trying my best to come back into the business, I will probably review all of this anyway as I did the first book)
shiver
-one of the small pieces into which a brittle thing is broken by sudden violence
-to undergo trembling: quiver
-to tremble in the wind as it strikes first one and then the other side
-a group of shark: herd, frenzy
Fandomspecific: silver ability to control ice and freeze things (completely unrelated to this chapter though except one remark)
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Life was normal in the everflowing ways of red and silver. Now people have long noticed the presence of soldiers that run through the streets in a frenzy. Now that the trap has snapped shut and failed to execute in the demand, the silence is worthless. And so the forces move as loud as they want in their own city again.
With every footstep, I sweep through the alleys and I bury the stone under a flood of small bodies. The clouds above my head get darker, buzzing dark aftermath of anger, and I pull and push them with me.
I am the plague.
The anger boils in my blood. It presses my bones together and makes my heart pound harshly.
As always, the needles that prick my scalp have failed me, and partially singed strands have escaped.
Every bouncing of a strand is the bouncing of thoughts, every needle prick is the repetition of the same cycle of conclusions.
I warned them. I warned all of them. People never listen to me. I thought that had changed now, but it doesn't mean a thing.
They escaped before, twice now, thrice, too many times, and somehow it never gets less irritating to know the rats have swum away and hidden again in some secret hole in the ground.
Not today. Not after the almost guaranteed victory.
My hands are shaking, chipped short nails, and one sleeve stained with dust.
I put them into the air, and the cascade of bodies hurls down, moves after my fingers. It spreads and feels the ground, it sees through the static waves that surround our world, and it trembles in waves along with the electricity.
I can be a hundred eyes and wings at once. I am a prodigy. I was never exaggerating.
Soaring through the sky, wind blowing on chitin, I struggle and fight, but everything I feel fills more holes. The facette eyes bring me information until I feel like I will implode.
I catch the glimpse of a body on a string. It sways back and forth,a s dead as it was. Black dressed, harsh figures move around it. One is young, pale and fighting some sort of combusting tension. One close by is grey-haired. He catches the bug closest to it, narrow eyes. Mouth voice syllables easy to read in a command.
