[P] tightropes

[Rhoswen]

Rhoswen ►

 
Rhoswen simmered silently beneath her brothers voracious gaze, knowing that her words would have pierced his heart and his pride, but she could not stop herself from wondering when this cycle would end. This well-worn chorus that rang in her ears to hail the loss of the stars and the hatred of a goddess she knew so well. Why did you leave? Won't you please stay? How could you have betrayed us so? The chasmic rhythm that beat on into the darkness held her between iron fingers, pressing her throat against a wall she had lingered beside for too long, too long. It was a sadness that screamed in the very coldest parts of she - parts she barely dared to acknowledge for fear of their chill; Rhoswen was fire, she could not withstand the ice that threatened to creep so reptilian beneath her skin. Perhaps she had not been worthy of Calligo's love, nor adoration; perhaps she was too fickle, too adamantine for a deity like theirs to adore. 

But again, she professed: I do not care.

Reichenbach spoke in reply to her query, murmuring lowly with that old baroque voice she had sought. It was safer that way, he was right. And why was there need for safety in the first place? - because Raum and the Regime had plagued Solterra with their nefarious deception, with no thought to the consequences of the people living within those sand-scraped walls. Rhoswen wanted to scream. But only she uttered, "I hope that it is soon."

And then there was a pause, almost as pregnant as Rhoswen herself, that hung so saturated and nameless in the air. Her stormborne eyes flickered like burnt matches to glance up at the King, a question forming in the glittering light reflected from the fires; but it was answered before she could bring it to life. Rhaegar. Her head swung, lines forming upon the delicate ruby plane of her forehead as Reich stared, stared, stared. Memories of laughter and youth came swimming once more into her mind, and it took every ounce of strength to banish them - if only for a moment. "Nothing... I know nothing." Her voice was granite and magma, searing beneath the heat of her closeted grief. "I only hope that he is happy." 

And there was nothing more to say. Wasn't that the tragedy of it all? The loss of an entire family in what seemed like the flick of a switch, leaving two souls to bear the sorrow of it all. They stood there - above the bustle, within the silence - a man and a woman, once children, watching as the bonds that tied them together frayed and fought to weather the night. 

Until, finally, "I am tired, Reich. Might you spare a Solterran a bed for a while?" And she turned toward the door, aching to escape the confines of this room, this conversation. Oh, Denocte, you curse me again.


@reichenbach -exit rhos- wrapped this up to keep up with current ongoings!!<3