#healsdark

she is not human. she would like to think that she is unique, singular in some way. different from the other messengers that walk the earth and from her own brethren, those who came after her. pride has kept her from seeking them out and bitter hate, from getting too close to the disc, lest she feels... something. gaea has become so accustomed to being alone; she is near afraid of letting him back in.

so it's a shock to her system when that distinct smell of rubble and stone, of earth and suffocating green, reaches her nose. the disc is a tourist attraction now; no one should be able to get so close to smell so strongly of the archaean.

when she turns around, it makes sense. the oracle's reputation and appearance preceded her.

"you smell like titan." her nose twitches because she can't quite rid her voice of the longing. she's no child; the archaean is no loving parent. and yet.

               when  did  she  take  the  camera  ?  brows  raising  at  the  question  lingering  in  mind  ...  but  let  it  slip.  flash  a  small  smile  for  the  oracle,  without  teeth  --  blinding  !  but  enough  to  show  content.  always  felt,  not  good  enough  for  her  ...  unworthy  of  being  king’s  friend.  but  could  pretend  that  it  was  okay,  that  everything  was  okay.  try  to  prove  a  place  well  earned,  trying  to  keep  up.

              ❛     when  did  you  take  my  camera.  you  better  have  at  least  taken  a  decent  picture  of  me  !     ❜  fake  complaints,  leaning  against  the  other  to  sneak  a  peak  of  the  photo.  a  forced  laugh,  fond  smile.