[ this is what Rudbeckia is accustomed to. the expectation of obedience without protest or question, and the heavy weight of a gaze bearing down on her as she hurries to appease—it's a language that she comprehends far more fluently than any of the medicine-sweet assurances of kindness or camaraderie she's heard. he is clear about what he wants from her, and he won't hurt her so long as she adequately provides it. that's the closest thing to safety she's able to have. ]
I found a scroll in the library that mentioned something waking up within the castle that changed people... but I don't know if that means the Blight, or something else.
[ under Set's scrutiny, she approaches the desk and, without hesitation, slides a hand through her own hair to draw a Fragment from the Shard that sits at the nape of her neck. the fact is that there are very few memories she needs to keep: only those that remind her of the need to be cautious, and those that inform her performance. what would it matter if she lost anything else, no matter if it was gone forever? even for this one, the farewell she sends out in her mind is half-hearted.
Sorry, Enzo.
within her hourglass, the sand rises, only to disappear again as she lays her hands on the desk. the ice recedes, books and papers released from its grip, the desk's drawers no longer frozen shut. Ruby doesn't draw herself upright; she leans more heavily on the desk now, expression scrunched tightly, swallowing her nausea. Come on, you've had worse. Get over it. It's just like when you're sick, you just have to endure. ]
Ugh... [ one deep breath, and then she steps back. her fingers tremble as she rearranges her hair, but her voice is soft and level: ] Um, do you think this is something more like a plague, or does it seem like a curse?
no subject
I found a scroll in the library that mentioned something waking up within the castle that changed people... but I don't know if that means the Blight, or something else.
[ under Set's scrutiny, she approaches the desk and, without hesitation, slides a hand through her own hair to draw a Fragment from the Shard that sits at the nape of her neck. the fact is that there are very few memories she needs to keep: only those that remind her of the need to be cautious, and those that inform her performance. what would it matter if she lost anything else, no matter if it was gone forever? even for this one, the farewell she sends out in her mind is half-hearted.
Sorry, Enzo.
within her hourglass, the sand rises, only to disappear again as she lays her hands on the desk. the ice recedes, books and papers released from its grip, the desk's drawers no longer frozen shut. Ruby doesn't draw herself upright; she leans more heavily on the desk now, expression scrunched tightly, swallowing her nausea. Come on, you've had worse. Get over it. It's just like when you're sick, you just have to endure. ]
Ugh... [ one deep breath, and then she steps back. her fingers tremble as she rearranges her hair, but her voice is soft and level: ] Um, do you think this is something more like a plague, or does it seem like a curse?