The smile that Ryatah gives her grates against Mazikeen’s mind but she is too relieved not to hear her nickname on the angel’s tongue to focus on any aggravation for a moment. It is strange how much just a couple fewer syllables can affect her. Even if it is only by chance which name Ryatah uses and not design, it is already a struggle to avoid remembering that night by the lake. When she had felt both relief and guilt when this mare had shown up to save her yet again, when she had been feeling so much she could have drowned on her thoughts just as easily as her own blood.
The golden light in Mazikeen’s mind reminds her what gratitude is and it feels more potent now than it had a few moments ago before she had found Ryatah. The memories filled with affection that she had used to lessen Gale’s strength have not gone quietly back into the corners of her mind so she continues to wrestle with it all.
She does not want any of it.
“Your son left something in there.” The words are gritted out now, like it is Ryatah’s fault. As she stares back into those black eyes something very close to pain passes across Mazikeen’s expression. Not the physical type she’s come to enjoy and long for, but something deeper. It is an echo of her older self, maybe, and it lends a pleading note to her next words “And I need it gone.”
When she hears her own voice, so close to begging, it snaps her back into fury. With her mind as it is, it is not difficult for her to believe that brief flash of pain is another trick of Firion’s. It is gone in a moment, the shadows winning out this small battle, and a few more glowing markings appear across her already fractured skin.
Resolve takes over when she speaks again. “Can you do that?”
@Ryatah