12-15-2016, 11:23 PM
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“Escorting them to where?” He wanted to retort that he would be escorting them anywhere that was far enough away from her, but he held his tongue this time as steady as he wore his ever sullen scowl. Lucrezia’s question, as always, and as true to her nature, undoubtedly one step in front of the absurdity that was him. After all these years, that hadn’t changed. If there was any part of the plan still waiting to be unravelled, well, it did so now. It was all useless, there was nothing to salvage here. Clarisse remained motionless, either incredibly brave beneath the threatening veil of his words, or, as he preferred to think, struck into stillness by fear. Something about that thought made him feel more like a man. At least there was one amongst them who grasped the magnitude of the situation she found herself in. He should be feared, even beneath the disarmament of Lucrezia’s words. “You FOOL,” “She is not sick. You are the one that is sick, Etojo!” And there it was, Lucrezia’s disapproval transformed into disgust. Her words laced with repulsion and her eyes breathing fire. His sour glare grew wide with confusion, his mouth agape, shocked. He could not understand her outrage. He broke his gaze away from her and glanced at the parts of his body he could easily discern. There was nothing about him that was disgusting, perhaps before he reasoned – when he wore a cloak of leaves and smelled of carrion. But his scent was of grass and wildflowers now, his body plain and otherwise normal. There was nothing ill about him, nothing that he could determine which would provoke such an uncalled-for reaction. He looked back at her, a token of hurt invaded his expression before masked once again by his anger. If she could see through the cracks of his failed plan, couldn’t she also understand that beneath it all, beneath everything, no matter the wayward way he went about it, that he was trying to take care of something. She didn’t get it, Lucrezia had labelled him fool from when they were young, and he realised the label would never be shaken. He was done here. And with a frustrated snort laced with hot breath and mucus, Etojo backed away from both blue filly and mare, backed away until he was alongside Lucrezia. Her natural scent mingled with strange smells too alien for him to make sense of anymore. Perhaps much like she had become to him, and him to her. “Move.” He ordered her, yes ordered her. Lucrezia, perhaps more of a stranger now then an almost once friend was blocking the opening to the underbrush he had initially burst through. She had never obeyed one of his damn orders before, but if she knew what was good for her, good for him, she would listen to him this once. He was overly tense, hurt and wild with a growing anger. He needed to get out of here, needed to go back to the forest, to brood and return to the solitude he had become so used to. This child wouldn’t be his, he accepted that, but that wouldn’t stop him from finding another, far away from Lucrezia’s condescending eye. |