[private] light and shadows

[Agetta]

His taunting about bumping uglies only earns a glare and her ears flattening against her skull in annoyance. It’s like he’s speaking half of another language, but she gets the jist of it (and is a little flustered that her words had inspired such a response) and she does her best not to let her confusion over the rest of it show. It’s what he says next, in his idle manner, that causes more of a reaction. Agetta without her memories believes that this foul-mouthed stranger is right. She is boring. The majority of her life has been spent as a spectre lingering on the outside of the world, hesitant to forge new connections, eager but unable to return to the past. She had lived a life already and has been a ghost ever since, only just starting to regain some semblance of being whole again. It is greedy to think she could live fully twice and she has kept the world at arm’s length, believing with all her soul that isolation was best until eventually she just faded away completely. Her rage seeps out of her almost visibly. Her eyes don’t shift from him and, if he cared to look back at her, he would see the change (she was never very good at hiding her emotions). With that one observation she’s returned to being a bystander, something that haunts rather than participates. She hates this reaction, wishes she had stayed furious - wishes she had the inclination to shift into a snow leopard and leap at him to see if claws could remove that smirk from his face when words didn’t. She would take anything over this sadness - anger or lust, anything that she could feel in comparison to the emptiness that she felt normally. The respite from herself that this conversation had offered was, in the end, only temporary. There is nothing but a century’s worth of hollow heartbreak in her midnight eyes when she finally responds. It’s only been a few seconds, but so much has changed in her demeanor in that small flicker of time. “You’re right, I am boring. There are greater sins out there, perhaps, but that is mine.” And then, just the faintest hint of a spark in that dark gaze. “What’s yours?” we are made of starstuff

artwork by yoricade

@[Ashhal]