![[Image: rhosheader.jpg]](https://image.ibb.co/ikNXOm/rhosheader.jpg)
Rhoswen ►
If you had asked Rhoswen what she was feeling, as she stood there watching Aislinn from beneath heavy hooded lids, tracing the nefarious moondust as it drifted like specks of dropped poison upon the winged Champion's skin, she would have shrugged: empty handed, bitter mouthed. For what did she know of redemption, of forgiveness, of the hope of a kept promise? Her life had been several acts of a single, Grecian play; was she the protagonist, or the villain? If the universe wished to play tricks right before her very eyes, it better have practised well; enough with the ache in her heart, enough with the confusion that crawled across her mind like an existential fog to blur her clarity.
Enough.
Her voice was gone, and she wished to say no more on the matter of her past; it laid behind her like a coffin in the dark, ominous and ghastly - she saw no reason to glance at it over her shoulder more than once. So it was with numb, clandestine relief that Rhoswen listened mutedly to her companion as she began to tell her own tale of truth and history. The moments that followed seemed to sweep by before she could grasp them tight between steadfast fingers, but she knew in earnest that they would linger on in her thoughts for an eternity to come. Rahilah. Of course, of course, how could she have been so blind to the eerie chime of Aislinn's coins and the aura of something otherworldly that clung to her frame like a broken potion. Rhoswen's brothers had often spoken of the gypsy tribe that were seldom seen upon the rolling hills of Denocte, and she could not help the forward twitching of her ears at the realisation that she was standing before their very Maiden.
Her lips moved as though to say something, but even if she had intended to - it was too late. The Denoctian champion seemed to swell and shrink beneath her gaze, tormented by her own ghosts; Rhoswen closed her mouth, wishing that she did not so acutely understand the look in Ash's pearlescent blue eyes. Aislinn bowed, leaving the red woman with a parting salutation before disappearing into the night - Rhoswen stared on into the darkness where her acquaintance had stood only moments before, wondering - drowning - suffocating - until a final whisper melted into the black: "farewell, dear Maiden."
Enough.
Her voice was gone, and she wished to say no more on the matter of her past; it laid behind her like a coffin in the dark, ominous and ghastly - she saw no reason to glance at it over her shoulder more than once. So it was with numb, clandestine relief that Rhoswen listened mutedly to her companion as she began to tell her own tale of truth and history. The moments that followed seemed to sweep by before she could grasp them tight between steadfast fingers, but she knew in earnest that they would linger on in her thoughts for an eternity to come. Rahilah. Of course, of course, how could she have been so blind to the eerie chime of Aislinn's coins and the aura of something otherworldly that clung to her frame like a broken potion. Rhoswen's brothers had often spoken of the gypsy tribe that were seldom seen upon the rolling hills of Denocte, and she could not help the forward twitching of her ears at the realisation that she was standing before their very Maiden.
Her lips moved as though to say something, but even if she had intended to - it was too late. The Denoctian champion seemed to swell and shrink beneath her gaze, tormented by her own ghosts; Rhoswen closed her mouth, wishing that she did not so acutely understand the look in Ash's pearlescent blue eyes. Aislinn bowed, leaving the red woman with a parting salutation before disappearing into the night - Rhoswen stared on into the darkness where her acquaintance had stood only moments before, wondering - drowning - suffocating - until a final whisper melted into the black: "farewell, dear Maiden."
@Aislinn very lacklustre ending but i am, historically, tragic at endings so /sadface/
