[AW] disaster hearts

[Marisol]

he who wants loses everything.

Marisol is not one to doubt the gods.

Out of everyone she knows, even out of her sovereign predecessors, she is probably the most staunchly religious of them all. Since childhood she has borne Vespera’s symbol on her shoulder, prayed before sleeping, used Her name as a greeting. So there is no doubt in Mari’s mind that this bizarre predicament is part of some greater plan—or at least not an accident in and of itself. 

But even she can’t imagine what Vespera has to gain from this.

Perhaps the confusion shows on her face. Perhaps not. But Anselm feels it, as concrete as a weight laid over his shoulders, and asks Are you worried? His eyes flicker to hers. In the dim light, the strange, pale green-brown of his eyes seems as clear as glass, and Marisol can feel that he is far more suspicious than she is; the soft white hairs on the back of his scruff are beginning to stand up. No, Mari answers, only half paying attention. Remember that saying about the book and its cover?

That hardly counts, Anselm grumbles.

“Of course. We would be glad to have you, medic or otherwise.” Mari clears her throat. In the quiet half-dark of the court, it seems awkwardly loud. 

But what else is there to say? There is no use worrying Araxes with news of Asterion’s disappearance, or the hunt for Prudence, or the fact that, actually, their number of medics is lower than Mari could ever feel comfortable with. No use, Anselm repeats, and the Commander forces a faint smile. “I cannot promise they will be, but if there were ever a place to accept your change… it would be here.”

Warmth rises in her chest, mostly a flame of pride as she thinks of her people—their kindness, their soft hearts, their welcoming. 

Then, as always, she thinks of all the problems that could cause.

Marisol’s mouth twists. She lets out a brusque exhale and offers, in a tone attempting to be warm, “I have things to attend to, but Anselm will walk you to a room in the citadel. Stay there as long as you need.” 

With a brief smile and an equally brief nod, Marisol disappears into the streets. 

"Speaking."

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