Don’t do this.
For a moment there is hesitation, a break in the way her eyes bear so viciously into his and she wonders if she is making the right decision by cutting Jahin loose; he is the last of the Davke she knows to be alive and here she is on the edge of pushing him away. But where has he been? Avdotya reminds herself. Where has he been while you shed every last drop of blood and sweat for who your people are? While you have watched them perish and rot at the hands of Day Court? Her hesitation vanishes with the wind, her ears fall flat to the back of her neck and she feels a snarl trying to bubble up from her throat. ”It is true, Jahin. The capitol has made you weak, it has dimmed the fire of your Davke heart and for that you cannot be trusted.” I am alone even with you standing right here in front of me.
She dismisses the self-pity, forces it away with her doubt and in its place anger continues to blossom. If it is a monster she must become to breathe life back into her feral desert horde, then let her grow fangs from her gums and the horns of the devil from her head.
Let her eyes go black with hate and her heart putrefy into nothingness.
She presses her spear deeper, deep enough that when he speaks she can smell the blood as it trickles from his skin - she almost tastes it with every word he says. And then she laughs again while she proceeds to drag her blade down his throat (though tactfully enough so the bleeding is far from life-threatening), turning away from him and lifting her head to watch where the sun sat in the sky above them. ”No, I suppose it never has.” The viper confirms coldly.
Her leg lifts to take a step, but she pauses. She shifts her eyes for a fraction of a second to linger upon the golden chain that still sits in the sand, half-buried now. Although the temptation to take it sits heavy as an ox on her mind, the Khan does not reach for her sister’s trinket - she leaves it for him to decide if it will be taken by the desert just like the rest of Makeda’s body. She knows the weight of the gesture, and she hopes his heart hurts to think of the girl just as much as hers did when she found her dead.
”Goodbye, Jahin.”
Goodbye, Makeda.
She walks, alone.
@jahin (lmk if you aren't comfortable with her cutting him!!! can definitely change that!)
For a moment there is hesitation, a break in the way her eyes bear so viciously into his and she wonders if she is making the right decision by cutting Jahin loose; he is the last of the Davke she knows to be alive and here she is on the edge of pushing him away. But where has he been? Avdotya reminds herself. Where has he been while you shed every last drop of blood and sweat for who your people are? While you have watched them perish and rot at the hands of Day Court? Her hesitation vanishes with the wind, her ears fall flat to the back of her neck and she feels a snarl trying to bubble up from her throat. ”It is true, Jahin. The capitol has made you weak, it has dimmed the fire of your Davke heart and for that you cannot be trusted.” I am alone even with you standing right here in front of me.
She dismisses the self-pity, forces it away with her doubt and in its place anger continues to blossom. If it is a monster she must become to breathe life back into her feral desert horde, then let her grow fangs from her gums and the horns of the devil from her head.
Let her eyes go black with hate and her heart putrefy into nothingness.
She presses her spear deeper, deep enough that when he speaks she can smell the blood as it trickles from his skin - she almost tastes it with every word he says. And then she laughs again while she proceeds to drag her blade down his throat (though tactfully enough so the bleeding is far from life-threatening), turning away from him and lifting her head to watch where the sun sat in the sky above them. ”No, I suppose it never has.” The viper confirms coldly.
Her leg lifts to take a step, but she pauses. She shifts her eyes for a fraction of a second to linger upon the golden chain that still sits in the sand, half-buried now. Although the temptation to take it sits heavy as an ox on her mind, the Khan does not reach for her sister’s trinket - she leaves it for him to decide if it will be taken by the desert just like the rest of Makeda’s body. She knows the weight of the gesture, and she hopes his heart hurts to think of the girl just as much as hers did when she found her dead.
”Goodbye, Jahin.”
Goodbye, Makeda.
She walks, alone.
@jahin (lmk if you aren't comfortable with her cutting him!!! can definitely change that!)
