I've made an art of
digging shallow holes
digging shallow holes
T
here goes the soldier girl, horses say in the street, See that collar around her neck? Pity, the poor thing. Their whispers are like snakes latching onto her skin, digging their fangs deep into her flesh. I heard the lot of them are monsters, trained, more dangerous than even the most skilled guard, still say others, Better watch your back.Have they always talked this much, and she just has never listened? Everything in Teiran is sifting through the cracks in her like sand, flowing out into the streets like blood. Every word strikes her proudly like an arrow.
Thunk, thunk, thunk.
The cracks spread faster than she can fill them, faster than she can try to mend them. The soldier straightens her face and turns her sage green eyes forward and walks like she is not listening. But she is, now. Now, she cannot stop herself from listening. Shame… so strong… must be lonely… an aberration…”
When did her skin become glass, fine and fragile and gossamer thin? Teiran feels so out of place in this court she has always only been loyal to, only pledged her entire life to. Again she wonders, is it Solterra that has changed, or just her?
The rose-hued woman pulls her hood further down her head, shadowing her eyes until they are nothing but jade stones glinting in the dim light. Her steps have lost their rigid purpose; her uncertainty more obvious to her than to others, most likely, but Teiran shoulders it uncomfortably—like a heavy armor on a summer day. She’s never known what it’s like to long for company, but some part of her is wishing for a friendly face.
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