[P] our hearts we have sold, for diamonds and gold

[Marisol]

by sword
by salt

Mari’s head is throbbing by the time she leaves. She shoulders her way out of the crowd with only dregs of what was once grace, head tucked low against her chest, eyes squeezing closed. Terrastella is her home, but right now it feels like a prison. Penning her in on every side. The once-familiar buildings turned into a trap. The voices of her people have braided into a noose, clawing at her neck. She stumbles out—and with every passing step, every degree of warmth that fades away behind her, more and more tears start to fall. She wants to sob but can’t. Her whole chest feels tight and hot, she can barely breathe; her ears are starting to ring—

Then someone calls her name. Oh, for fuck’s sake, can’t she get one moment of sorrow to herself?

The queen stops. Shakes her head. Takes a deep, deep breath, so deep it aches. And then with the very last of her failing will, she stows her tears and turns around. 

But then she sees them, and she nearly falters.

Like ghosts, like gods, they stand side by side in the street. Their perfect skins of black-and-white, those big, bright blue eyes. Mari’s heart stops in her chest. They look… perfect. Statuesque. Most importantly, unharmed. Her gaze goes wide, her mouth falls open oh-so-slightly; there’s a few things you should know, Erd says, and it’s impossible to know whether the burning in her chest is anger or relief or another whip-lash of sharp, sharp fear.

Whatever he’s about to tell her can’t be good, she knows, and yet how could things get any worse than they are now?

“Ard,” Mari breathes. “Erd—“ She steps toward them both, but does not dare reach out. Fear and hope tremble, holding hands, in her chest. The last time she talked to Ard is a bitter memory, and it’s rising again to the surface of her brain as she looks at him, and how his body is stitched to his brother’s. “I—yes, of course. Yes. Thank Vespera you made it home. Tell me, tell me everything—if someone hurt you, I swear they will be… disciplined.”

She lopes to a shady corner of the street, beckoning them with the tip of one wing to a place secluded from the din of the city and away from prying eyes.  Her heart pounds in her chest like a wild thing, like it can't decide whether to stop or explode

“Speaking.”

credits