'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...
- a person connected with another by blood or marriage
- the state of having shared interests or efforts (as in social or business matters)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I bring back bad luck.
I have never been scared of fire. Now, it burns inside my veins like I have the ability to burst into them. With every breath, my panic and circling thoughts turn into more anger until I am a wild beast in the guise of a woman. My sight flickers and my body feels like it will burst.
My first want to smash into things, and I don't care about who I hit if they dare to come too close. They all have started to move on, to back up, to pack together. In the distance, somewhere beyond the fence, the city lies barely touched. With minimal damage and minimal disturbances.
The panic and wild shaped anger flicker through my system in waves.
Merry misfortune on your endeavors, bad luck Daliah proves them all right.
The realization of my own weakness, my own system breaking, my malfunction, is never a nice one. It turns unbearable now, and I have to push through my helplessness.
My body is a monolith shaking - membranes quivering. For better or worse I am frozen in place where both Asher and Loren have put me, fresh air around my head and a world still as faded and grey as before. The fence clinks in a breeze.
The world turns around me in a slipping injustice of my own unforgiving fault, and the frustration gets accompanied by screams that curdle my blood and pierce whatever is left of my brain.
The steps behind me are soft. If I wasn't unable to move, I would bolt around and kick into whoever dares.
I look over from the corner of my sight. Taller figure in dark, hushed in colors of burned off crimson fire and black like soot left, Maven has joined me on staring down a fence.
If I speak, I will insult him.
In my current position, I should keep my mouth shut. At least that is what the little rest of my intelligence left tells me. The rest of me is unwilling to bend, even if it means my end. I have damned a 15 year old boy to die in war, I have no interest in being blackmailed and pressured even more now.
Larentia is always right.
You have to make decisions and live with the consequences.
Even if they maim you.
For a second, the silence is ashen between us, a bitter layer of annoyed frustration.
"I am starting to think you aren't able to catch a fly even if it landed on your nose," his smooth voice says, without much enthusiasm or life now. "Although at least you did a decent job before."
