Prompt, if you're feeling it--Emsider, "I lied before"
Her home seems cold and foreboding, and inside of it sits a lunatic on her throne and her father is encased in stone. Itās not the most ideal homecoming situation. Thereās an ache in her chest, one that begs for the comforts of her old life. When she was dumb and desperate for freedom and didnāt understandĀ what it meant to be an empress.Ā
She wants to say she doesnāt miss the old Emily, but she does. Because beyond those walls, even moreso than this journey sheās been on, everything will change.Ā
āWhat will you do?ā The words are a chill on the wind, the diverging of two planes of existence splitting at the seams.Ā
Kill Delilah. Stop Delilah. Understand Delilah.Ā
He hovers in her periphery, as black and white as his own viewpoint.Ā āThere is no time to hesitate now, little empress. But here we are.ā
Despite herself, thereās a curl of her smile that threatens the edges of her mouth.Ā āDid you come all the way here for a pep talk?ā
The Outsider is quiet for a moment, and she wants to look, to take him all in before this is the end of their - partnership? But thereās a worry that sits uncomfortably in her gut that if she looks, heāll disappear.Ā
āThat would be encouraging.ā
āAnd you donāt get involved?ā She rolls her neck and closes her eyes. For a brief second, thereās a brush against her fingers, as cold as they were in the Void when he held her dangling by her wrist.Ā
Then itās gone, and he takes a deep breath.Ā āI think weāre past that by now, you and I.ā
She wants him to hold her hand. And not because she wants this to end in some sort of romantic connection, but because sheās so lonelyĀ and she needs it. She needs that bit of someone in her corner, someone who has been there to push her along and show her the way. Sokolov is gone. Meagan is a lie. Her mother is a ghost in a heart. Her father nothing more than a statue.Ā
The only bullshit, tangible connection she has right now is this twisted and warped god.Ā
āI lied before,ā she admits. This is it. A conclusion will be written, and she will take back everythingĀ that should be hers.Ā āI told myself it didnāt matter that you were gone back at Stiltonās. That I was on my own.ā
āHumans are very good at lying to themselves, Iāve noticed,ā he says with a huff of amusement.Ā
āI needed you,ā Emily tells him.Ā
Her hand finds his, tentative fingers pushing against darkness. She lets herself have this weakness, the feel of his palm against hers and the brief way his fingers tighten and squeeze before heās gone.
There is, after all, a traitor to be rid of.