Agnieszka
Eszka watches Wane and he watches the sea and the dappled woman is not foolish enough to think that she has even a fraction of his attention or admiration even. This Eszka, stripped down and plain is perhaps too vanilla. She’s trying to conceal what makes her flawed and thereby conceals whatever makes her remarkable. She may realize this later but for now she wants to try to be as normal as she can manage. To try on the skin of someone who doesn’t wake to the sound of her own screams whenever she tries to sleep in the caves that nearly everyone else here lives in. To walk out into the water and not wonder why it bothers her that it only feels like water.
She knows wistfulness, feels that ebbing off of Wane even if he doesn’t mean for it to. She’s still watching him with her violet eyes when he turns back and draws close. He drops words in her ears like wishes into a well and his look is still far away even if he’s come close. So close in fact that she tips her face toward his neck and tugs lightly at the gathered ends of his half-soaked mane. “We…?” she asks absently, coaxing more but not insisting, not expecting more from him than she herself is willing to give.
She tries not to ask more, but that ‘we’ is full of so much for her. She had more than just herself once too. Not knowing who they were does not mean she just assumes she’s an island. There had been others in her life and she cannot remember them. Is the forgetting harder, or the loss? Would remembering what she’d had break her further? There is no way to know. A little part of Agnieszka would like to hear what it’s like to be without someone and ache for them, how that kind of heartache sits. It’s morbid to long for sorrow, she knows. It’s not so wrong to wish she could pine for people who mean something to her.
an unequaled gift for disaster
@[Wane]