[ b ] Beginning of the End (Dweller & Fierce Warrior)
Posted: Tue Oct 08, 2024 5:29 pm
She could not believe this was happening.
She should believe that this was happening, because what else should she have expected?
Not this, said the voice in her head that always made her more irritated, more frustrated with herself. Not this at all. You weren't expecting this to be your legacy, did you? And now look what has happened. Look where you are. You have to live with the consequences of your own actions, because otherwise you will have failed yourself and everything you have tried for.
Dweller pushed those thoughts away, burying them far and deep, her attention returning to the stag that stood at the crest of the hill they had both met on. He was shadowy in the evening light, his sharp edges blurred and dulled by the soft shine of the moon, much of his harshness melting away into the dark. It was only his appearance, she had learned, that was harsh; underneath he was a quiet sort, his voice gentle, his expression earnest, as though he was only too happy to help her.
Earnest, with that edge of weariness to it, lining the smile with something unreadable that Dweller had yet to understand.
All of this annoyed her. She said (or demanded), "Tell me again what you feel."
He didn't look at her, his head cocked ever so slightly to the left. She thought he might have been listening to something else, but after a moment Fierce answered, his voice low, "I feel you are afraid and because you are afraid, you are angry. The anger will not give you peace and letting that anger take you over will only make things more difficult in the end."
She felt exposed, drawn open against her will. Dweller's expression hardened, the moon casting her face into half shadow, her hooves digging into the soft ground below. "You don't know me. You pretend that you do, and you pretend that you are this all knowing, all experienced being, but you are nothing. You are not like the others. You are just pretending that you can tell me what will happen, but your lies will not have any affect on me, no matter what you do. No matter what you say."
Her voice was a little hoarse by the end of it, the words spitting out of her, cracking through her ribs and clawing their way up her throat. Fierce Warrior stood silently throughout her tirade, his expression lost in the dark as the sun sank lower in the horizon. She couldn't understand him, and perhaps she was a little afraid to try.
The silence pressed against her, suffocating, choking. Dweller wanted to run, to hide, to snarl her way through the forest until something made sense again and she could go back to the life she had carved out in the swamp for herself.
"You're afraid," said Fierce softly, "of being left alone."
"I am alone," said Dweller, and ran before she could stop herself.
She should believe that this was happening, because what else should she have expected?
Not this, said the voice in her head that always made her more irritated, more frustrated with herself. Not this at all. You weren't expecting this to be your legacy, did you? And now look what has happened. Look where you are. You have to live with the consequences of your own actions, because otherwise you will have failed yourself and everything you have tried for.
Dweller pushed those thoughts away, burying them far and deep, her attention returning to the stag that stood at the crest of the hill they had both met on. He was shadowy in the evening light, his sharp edges blurred and dulled by the soft shine of the moon, much of his harshness melting away into the dark. It was only his appearance, she had learned, that was harsh; underneath he was a quiet sort, his voice gentle, his expression earnest, as though he was only too happy to help her.
Earnest, with that edge of weariness to it, lining the smile with something unreadable that Dweller had yet to understand.
All of this annoyed her. She said (or demanded), "Tell me again what you feel."
He didn't look at her, his head cocked ever so slightly to the left. She thought he might have been listening to something else, but after a moment Fierce answered, his voice low, "I feel you are afraid and because you are afraid, you are angry. The anger will not give you peace and letting that anger take you over will only make things more difficult in the end."
She felt exposed, drawn open against her will. Dweller's expression hardened, the moon casting her face into half shadow, her hooves digging into the soft ground below. "You don't know me. You pretend that you do, and you pretend that you are this all knowing, all experienced being, but you are nothing. You are not like the others. You are just pretending that you can tell me what will happen, but your lies will not have any affect on me, no matter what you do. No matter what you say."
Her voice was a little hoarse by the end of it, the words spitting out of her, cracking through her ribs and clawing their way up her throat. Fierce Warrior stood silently throughout her tirade, his expression lost in the dark as the sun sank lower in the horizon. She couldn't understand him, and perhaps she was a little afraid to try.
The silence pressed against her, suffocating, choking. Dweller wanted to run, to hide, to snarl her way through the forest until something made sense again and she could go back to the life she had carved out in the swamp for herself.
"You're afraid," said Fierce softly, "of being left alone."
"I am alone," said Dweller, and ran before she could stop herself.