This keening soul;
Cursed.
Dying.
Those words are heavy in the small space left between the girls. They are nooses about their throats and weights that pull their hearts down, down into the dirt.
Leto blinks worlds away in her gaze. She opens her galaxy eyes and baths Iscariot in the nebulae within. So many stars dance across the Ilati-girl’s skin as leto studies her ever inch and wonders where it is that ails her.
Leto may not know what it is to be dying. But she does know what it is to be cursed - cursed unto death. For is that not what fortune tellers do? Condemn their listeners with the truth - the weight of which is enough to bring them to their knees.
“What is killing you?” Leto murmurs and never has she been one to know how words can sting and how to lessen their ferocity. She speaks without fear, she speaks with knives upon her tongue and does not realise for even a moment.
Slowly her gaze lowers and runs along Iscariot’s frigid smile. The season it turning about them, winter comes beckoning, but it is not a chill that trembles its way up her spine. “Curses can be lifted, Iscariot. You just have to find out how.” Slowly Leto’s skull tilts and she regards the other girl with wild eyes. “Do you wish for help? The Ilati know so many things.”
@Iscariot | "speaks" | notes: <3
