[ what bleeds between Set's fingers from the wound he had tried in vain to cover is a vision that perhaps no one else could understand as well as Rudbeckia understands it. a brand of horror she is so intimately familiar with, a nightmare she has envisioned so often herself without needing anyone to feed it to her. their fear blurs together in this Communion space that neither of them can control. Osiris' hand reaches out towards Ruby; Cesare's hand runs through Set's hair. what lurks in their gaze is something she can't decipher, something Set knows that she can't perceive. Ruby is a paralysing influence on their shared vision, helpless and unable to resist, only knowing that if it ever came true, her world – such a small and insignificant thing, just her, beneath any shred of concern to Meridian or Zenith – would end.
she thought— she really thought she wouldn't cry. that it couldn't break through the thick blanket of ice that had settled her heart once she swallowed the serenity Jonathan Sims had offered her, or even the numbness of shock inflicted on her by their vision. but when Set hauls her up, fumbles to remove her shoes with a sudden and desperate protective urge that she cannot pretend not to see in him – a harsh sob wrenches itself from her throat.
if she didn't cry, though, she would scream. she would have to tell Set everything, needing him to know that they won't accept her, that they can't, and tearing herself to pieces in trying to communicate it. it isn't something she could ever actually put into words when it's simply an immutable fact of the universe that she knows, a culmination of every cold gaze and cruel hand that has ever laid upon her, every person that turned away from her pleas, every warm sentiment that ran dry. ]
I— I want to stay with you... [ in the end, this is the only way she can express her fear. ] I don't have anywhere else to go, please don't throw me away. I'll be good, I'll...
[ the things she cannot put into words, the inconsolable wail that is caught in her throat, finds the crack it can escape through: Communion does not need her to speak, or even understand her own feelings. Set does not receive memories laid out neatly in a film reel, but feels the aftermath of what Ruby's life has left her with. her certainty that she will not, cannot be loved is something rooted so deeply within her because it has been fed and nurtured by every person she has ever encountered. he feels the despair that struck her the moment her family's warmth evaporated, knowing that it was her fault; that she had disappointed them, that at the centre of her is something so terrible, anyone who sees it is changed.
her mother's harsh words, relentless, finding the flaws in her looks and her actions and her very existence. a rod striking her knuckles in a teacher's hand. the whip held high, Cesare's voice gone cold: Tell me what you did wrong. her father the Pope with a fistful of her hair in his hand when he had been smiling so kindly just a moment before.
the servants rolling their eyes when she speaks. whispers in the hallways. coughing up a glass of water, her throat burning from the grains of sand mixed into it. pinned to the wall by her husband's sister, shouting at her: Just go and die quietly! that red-eyed glare again, and the despair it struck in her heart. there is no end to it, and no reprieve.
maybe Zenith would accept her, maybe Yima would love her at first. but it is inevitable that it would change because it always, always, always does. ]
cw abuse and misery
she thought— she really thought she wouldn't cry. that it couldn't break through the thick blanket of ice that had settled her heart once she swallowed the serenity Jonathan Sims had offered her, or even the numbness of shock inflicted on her by their vision. but when Set hauls her up, fumbles to remove her shoes with a sudden and desperate protective urge that she cannot pretend not to see in him – a harsh sob wrenches itself from her throat.
if she didn't cry, though, she would scream. she would have to tell Set everything, needing him to know that they won't accept her, that they can't, and tearing herself to pieces in trying to communicate it. it isn't something she could ever actually put into words when it's simply an immutable fact of the universe that she knows, a culmination of every cold gaze and cruel hand that has ever laid upon her, every person that turned away from her pleas, every warm sentiment that ran dry. ]
I— I want to stay with you... [ in the end, this is the only way she can express her fear. ] I don't have anywhere else to go, please don't throw me away. I'll be good, I'll...
[ the things she cannot put into words, the inconsolable wail that is caught in her throat, finds the crack it can escape through: Communion does not need her to speak, or even understand her own feelings. Set does not receive memories laid out neatly in a film reel, but feels the aftermath of what Ruby's life has left her with. her certainty that she will not, cannot be loved is something rooted so deeply within her because it has been fed and nurtured by every person she has ever encountered. he feels the despair that struck her the moment her family's warmth evaporated, knowing that it was her fault; that she had disappointed them, that at the centre of her is something so terrible, anyone who sees it is changed.
her mother's harsh words, relentless, finding the flaws in her looks and her actions and her very existence. a rod striking her knuckles in a teacher's hand. the whip held high, Cesare's voice gone cold: Tell me what you did wrong. her father the Pope with a fistful of her hair in his hand when he had been smiling so kindly just a moment before.
the servants rolling their eyes when she speaks. whispers in the hallways. coughing up a glass of water, her throat burning from the grains of sand mixed into it. pinned to the wall by her husband's sister, shouting at her: Just go and die quietly! that red-eyed glare again, and the despair it struck in her heart. there is no end to it, and no reprieve.
maybe Zenith would accept her, maybe Yima would love her at first. but it is inevitable that it would change because it always, always, always does. ]