Who: @ikarosx Where: Nyla's home in the shore
Even though she was grateful for all those in the haven, for their hospitality she was glad to be free from the place. From the claustrophobia gaze of their eyes. It felt like they were all walking on eggshells around those that came from the kossith vessel. It was understandable though, they didn’t know the horrors that were inflicted upon that ship. That hadn’t been a victim of the wheels turning this time around. Lucky for them. While in the haven though she couldn’t help but look at others, wondering what she would have seen if she had been forced to look at their soul, what had the wheel put them through? Did the wheel have to do this to them, to turn them into the people they needed to be to face the dark one? Maybe it was all par for the course? It didn’t mean she had to like the journey. It didn’t mean she would like the woman she would be at the end of it all; a line had been crossed. how many more would she step over to reach the finish line?
The journey to Avalon had left like it had taken years but in reality it wasn’t true, the soul seer just didn’t want to admit to herself that even if her body wasn’t fatigued her mind was. Her grandmother Esta had taught the soul seer to fear crossing the line. Nylatheria could see that it was Esta who was scared of what she could do. Scared that the young elven would become detached from the world. It was a valid fear as that is what Nyla had done on the Kossith vessel to protect herself. If it wasn’t for Talisa, Agnes, Deja she would have remained numb to the world. Seen the souls of this world like pieces on a chessboard. Agnes had joined her on the journey, saying that Nyla wasn’t allowed to make such movements on her thanks to the kossith. Cute really. But she couldn’t enter Avalon, so she remained behind in her humble abode in the sliverlands. Nyla had told her she would be away for a few days as she needed to see family, it wasn’t exactly a lie as Lyra was family to her but it was avoidance of the truth.
Entering a home that was so clearly locked in time now disgusted her. She could have done so much with her time. It was all wasted. What had she actually done to find Lyra? What had she gained? Her hand caressed what was her wife's cloak. Memories of her time with Talisa, how they laughed on the streets, how the other was childlike, flashed before. It had brought not only a smile to her face but tears. They weren't of happiness or grief but rage. A once gentle grip turned vice-like as it ripped that cloak from its stand, puncturing it as she did so. Nothing could stop the tidal wave of emotions as Nyla ravaged the home she had spent hundreds of years preserving. This was a home steeped with evidence of her betrayal. What she had done that night with Agnes fuelled her self-hatred. How easily she had forgotten her reason for leaving Avalon in the first place. She was disgusting, cowardly and weak. She wouldn't blame Lyra for never forgiving the indiscretions she had made.
The home appeared like a tornado had ripped through its core, ripping anything loose from it place, scattering it across the room. But every tornado faded, lost steam. As Nyla's body gave out, she curled up into a ball, wishing the world would take her way, swallow her whole as she heard a knock at the door. She didn't check who it was or even move to greet them as she used her magic to let them in.
