[P] lacrimosa

[Rhoswen]

R H O S W E N Deep within the cavern of her heart, ash curdles like old milk: pale and congealed. Was it worth it? Was he worth it? - Her daughter, even? Rhoswen's mind flicks through reels of black-and-white film, watching the past's events unfold once more, though this time with new eyes. Eyes that had seen the grotesque reality of all the choices we make on a stupid fucking lovesick whim. Consequences are ugly - but they are real. They are not stories to be told to children who stray too far, not dreams to be conjured in the black nebula of night. They are a lived reality, and Bexley was living hers right now. Lambent virginal light clung to her garish scar, holding Rhoswen's attention for a moment too long; she did not mean to stare, but how could she deny the gravity of its presence? For their eyes meet again, clashing, reaching, hoping. Was there even a solution to be found here in this pit she has forged - this hollow place where nothing felt familiar and time passed into oblivion. Guilt rummaged through her bones like a thief in the night; twisting its knife deeper into the fine sinew beneath her skin.  No heroes here. No victors.  "What do you want? What are you expecting to happen?" There is a moment, then, where Rhoswen simply watches Bexley. Gazing aimlessly without intention, without anticipation, in remembrance of a simpler time: days defined by languor and hot sand, spears of laughter pitched into the wide sun-sky like javelins thrown over and over again; what she wouldn't give to turn back the clock. Of course she knew it was an impossibility, but that did not stop her from wishing for it regardless. All Rhoswen could do now was to glue back the broken shards of their friendship the only way she knew how - if Bexley should allow her so. Silence, a handful of breeze to catch them both, until - "I don't know, Bex." The truth is as brutal as it is cold; there were no answers here, no right and wrong: there was only an endless open chasm before them - waiting, calling. There was no point lying, no sense in trying to cast meaningless words into the air to appease Bexley, or Solis, or both. "I suppose in my selfishness, I can only hope you will forgive me." @Bexley

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