03-08-2021, 09:45 PM
She had seen the aftereffects of the fire on Cirilla's skin. The way it had marbled her once smooth surfaces with red and black and charring ash. And she had hated, hated, the creature who's flame had caused the haloed girl so much pain. The brief altercation on the battlefield hadn't been enough to ease the violence that had bloomed in her heart from that moment, but it was all she'd been given.
Too much else had been going on, in the heat of the day.
It had been so hard to catch her breath. To fight off the waves of anger that the day had unleashed inside of her, that she didn't want to subject to innocents. Innocents meaning Cirilla. To hell with anyone elsethat day. They all deserved whatever they got for letting this happen in the first place.
She'd cooled off after a few days, but by then it had been too late. Ciri was gone. For reasons Tarte was beyond understanding, back to the one's who'd burned her in the first place.
That had stung sharply.
Was she really less desirable company than a hoard of ravaging monsters? What did that make her? Tarte could only stand and watch as the pastel woman's thoughts and feelings came spinning out in what seemed like a long-repressed flooding.
Her eyes remained locked on Cirilla's softly illuminated face, her own visage lost against the night. She was quaking like a windblown sapling, forcing herself to let Circilla finish, or they'd never get through this. It was getting clearer with every word that they were long past due on this conversation.
She let the quiet draw out between them, waiting to see if there was more the blue mare wanted to say and trying to find words inside herself that wouldn't damn everything that rested so delicately between them.
There was a part of her, and not a small one, that demanded she burn whatever remained of this relationship. It would be easy to spit venom like her mother. Easier still to walk away, and pretend she'd never been hurt at all, a lie to benefit nothing and no one.
Half-choking while her heart lodged itself in her throat, the horned mare shook her head minutely. "Ciri- Cirilla," she shaped the name with utmost care. Her eyes watered hot and sore as she pulled herself forward. Back into the warmth of the haloed mare. She was the sun that Tarte has orbited for seasons, and she had shivered with the lack of.
And she shivered now, hesitating on the brink of truth as she sought the golden eyes. "I'm a sorry, stupid mare. I always have been, to not see what's been staring me in the face all this time. Can you forgive me?" She murmured, breath mingling with her pair's as she recognized the heart she'd been searching for so long.
@[cirilla]
Too much else had been going on, in the heat of the day.
It had been so hard to catch her breath. To fight off the waves of anger that the day had unleashed inside of her, that she didn't want to subject to innocents. Innocents meaning Cirilla. To hell with anyone elsethat day. They all deserved whatever they got for letting this happen in the first place.
She'd cooled off after a few days, but by then it had been too late. Ciri was gone. For reasons Tarte was beyond understanding, back to the one's who'd burned her in the first place.
That had stung sharply.
Was she really less desirable company than a hoard of ravaging monsters? What did that make her? Tarte could only stand and watch as the pastel woman's thoughts and feelings came spinning out in what seemed like a long-repressed flooding.
Her eyes remained locked on Cirilla's softly illuminated face, her own visage lost against the night. She was quaking like a windblown sapling, forcing herself to let Circilla finish, or they'd never get through this. It was getting clearer with every word that they were long past due on this conversation.
She let the quiet draw out between them, waiting to see if there was more the blue mare wanted to say and trying to find words inside herself that wouldn't damn everything that rested so delicately between them.
There was a part of her, and not a small one, that demanded she burn whatever remained of this relationship. It would be easy to spit venom like her mother. Easier still to walk away, and pretend she'd never been hurt at all, a lie to benefit nothing and no one.
Half-choking while her heart lodged itself in her throat, the horned mare shook her head minutely. "Ciri- Cirilla," she shaped the name with utmost care. Her eyes watered hot and sore as she pulled herself forward. Back into the warmth of the haloed mare. She was the sun that Tarte has orbited for seasons, and she had shivered with the lack of.
And she shivered now, hesitating on the brink of truth as she sought the golden eyes. "I'm a sorry, stupid mare. I always have been, to not see what's been staring me in the face all this time. Can you forgive me?" She murmured, breath mingling with her pair's as she recognized the heart she'd been searching for so long.
@[cirilla]