WOMAN KING.

 you know - you know this. oh, you know ! true innocence does not exist, no matter what inane standards the church might hold people to. you have memories, of before your life became a nightmare, of before your world turned in on itself like a dark place, darker than night, you had never been perfect. you’d been a jealous little thing, all high laughs and strops. for the first nine years of your life, a small peek into the world of being a normal child, bothering your older siblings, laughing down the halls, birthdays and holidays. ( of course, even then: the many mothers who were present, the queen who looked down at you all as if you were dirty, the whispers, the checking each meal for poison. you were never destined for a normal life. ) 

 but it’s one thing to be a foolish child with mistakes on your hands than a wise woman, grown in the world, willingly dipping her’s in blood. and it almost makes you laugh that claude would say that, when clearly you are more guilty than he. oh, that isn’t to say he’s innocent. you’ve seen the sly shine of his eyes more than once, seen the way his hand grips his bow and the beat beat beat of the wings of his wyvern like a raven over a carcass. you know hungry eyes when you see them. but his hunger is different to yours. so it’s funny - it’s downright fucking hilarious - that it’s claude who says this to you that you bark out a laugh.

Please stop blowing up Flayn’s Mine Craft House, it is upsetting her greatly

all that rainbow wool… gone