and bury it before it buries me
Fire flickers at the corners of her mind. Elena is never sure if another’s power comes as a word or as an image, but it sits there in the back of her mind as if she has always known. She remembers the fire wielder back home, Davina. Wind and flames, the girl would have been able to throw fire balls had she wished. But, thankfully, she was much more docile than the woman in front of Elena now. She is strong, the palomino can tell that much, it simmers there, stronger than embers below her skin. Elena watches with heedful eyes.
She felt the sharp sting of empathy. This is why she bites her lip and halts her words. Elena was not immune to losing her temper or to displays of pettiness—though, thankfully, she’d managed to rein herself in a little. She just sighs, the sound impossibly sad in her mouth, because she knows what it is like to fear losing that which you love. She knows what it is like to cling to the sun and watch your fingers crumble as you try to hold onto it. She knows, and she recognizes it as the feelings rolling off the Regent. Elena cannot pin point it exactly, especially it is fleeting, buried beneath anger and ferocity. But there is something else too, a nervousness, but where it comes from, Elena isn't sure. She knows she is assuming too much, knows she is putting her own emotions on top of the woman’s, blaming the heartache on empathy.
(She winces with her emotions, and feels suddenly jagged inside.)
“It..” she starts. “Doesn't matter.” Moira, she should just say, but she cant bring it in herself to lie right now. “I am Elena though, and who are you?” She asks, the question turned around and facing her. The Night Court Regent, but Elena knows little of Denocte’s politics, she had been far too concerned with shadows and starlight.
Elena, despite herself, despite that this may get her killed, she lets out just a fragment of laughter. “No, no maybe you are not the type to go shopping for scarves,” she says. The palomino follows her eyes to the bar and she offers her a smile. “I don't think I know of such a drink,” she says with laughter, and her eyes cross the street to a small building.
“Have you ever been axe throwing?”
She felt the sharp sting of empathy. This is why she bites her lip and halts her words. Elena was not immune to losing her temper or to displays of pettiness—though, thankfully, she’d managed to rein herself in a little. She just sighs, the sound impossibly sad in her mouth, because she knows what it is like to fear losing that which you love. She knows what it is like to cling to the sun and watch your fingers crumble as you try to hold onto it. She knows, and she recognizes it as the feelings rolling off the Regent. Elena cannot pin point it exactly, especially it is fleeting, buried beneath anger and ferocity. But there is something else too, a nervousness, but where it comes from, Elena isn't sure. She knows she is assuming too much, knows she is putting her own emotions on top of the woman’s, blaming the heartache on empathy.
(She winces with her emotions, and feels suddenly jagged inside.)
“It..” she starts. “Doesn't matter.” Moira, she should just say, but she cant bring it in herself to lie right now. “I am Elena though, and who are you?” She asks, the question turned around and facing her. The Night Court Regent, but Elena knows little of Denocte’s politics, she had been far too concerned with shadows and starlight.
Elena, despite herself, despite that this may get her killed, she lets out just a fragment of laughter. “No, no maybe you are not the type to go shopping for scarves,” she says. The palomino follows her eyes to the bar and she offers her a smile. “I don't think I know of such a drink,” she says with laughter, and her eyes cross the street to a small building.
“Have you ever been axe throwing?”
so take away this apathy
bury it before it buries me
@Morrighan
![[Image: ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db...0iFb4PvyXE]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8026a53b-dc57-41ab-b574-9f8a8fe57ce4/ddvotwe-59302ba6-6a81-47bf-9846-30c5a5db0780.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzgwMjZhNTNiLWRjNTctNDFhYi1iNTc0LTlmOGE4ZmU1N2NlNFwvZGR2b3R3ZS01OTMwMmJhNi02YTgxLTQ3YmYtOTg0Ni0zMGM1YTVkYjA3ODAucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.ujCJH7FAbsQhfZlQniMmEd_vw-VmvaTDn0iFb4PvyXE)
let's light this house on fire
we'll dance in the warmth of its blaze
pixel made by the amazing star
