[P] cinderblock gardens

[Theodosia]

let our eyes show the
fire in our hearts tonight

She has never been entirely stupid -- a bit too reckless, even now, perhaps with a strong lack of caution, a startling disregard for common sense -- she is starting to catch the way Marisol reacts to her very presence, and she wonders if the commander has the same memory running through her head of that night.

(The thought makes static roll from her wings, close enough that any time they touch, Marisol can likely feel the literal sparks -- she has trapped herself in here by closing the door, and she’s starting to wonder if maybe that was a mistake. Her tongue feels like a traitor, like she might only be able to bite back the words she wishes to say for so long -- they burn the back of her throat like ozone caught by a storm.)

She aches for Terrastella, for the land that has been ravished and rebuilt, spread out before them on a map -- for the kingdom she has vowed to protect, no matter how much her opinion of their goddess might be in turmoil.

“I didn’t ask Asterion,” She rebutes, and she is starting to catch the edge of bitterness buried in the commander’s voice, starting to realize that maybe she can walk the thin line she has been presented with, and she dares to press closer to the Commander, to stare her down with eyes pale against the bright crimson of the ragged warpaint splashed across her face.

“I asked you, Commander -- where would you place me?”

She pauses, and it feels as though the static builds across her wings, rippling out across her back and digging into the wounds at her hip and shoulder -- she does not flinch, does not break her stare, even as her traitorous tongue speaks once more.

“Would you place me next to you?”

credits
@Marisol