[P] what i know about forests is they always grow back

[Marisol]

WITH SWORD AND SALT -

Marisol knows well how much easier it is to be loved than love, and she knows, too, how much easier it is to be the victim than the judge: there is no small measure of guilt that comes with indicting a death sentence, and the voracity with which Isra is prepared to defend her decision is one that Marisol admires with her whole heart.  It is terrifying. And wonderful. She has never been so sure of anything as Isra is of this. And to see the Denoctian queen so willingly bury her heart in search of God is something so pious and beautiful it almost brings her to tears.

But there is no time to cry, nor tears left to waste. Deep in her angry heart Marisol knows she will have to save her sorrow for something inevitably worse. 

She stands perfectly still as Isra draws her lips over the hard plane of her forehead. She feels a little drizzle of wet sand, and then the drizzle builds and builds and builds until it is a wave coursing down her cheeks and she sees red splat-splat-splat on the cobblestone and hikes in a sharp breath. It matches sharp against her chest. It is not blood, but it could be - 

Marisol ducks her head and follows.

---

@isra <3

aimless | kokovi