#moonsworn

❝ what do you think that is? should we leave it or... ? ❞

it would make sense to leave her here while the rest of her companions sought answers. she would, for once, slow them down. she landed on her arm wrong if the makeshift sling father petrovich wrapped around it told her anything. but inaction has never suited her and being left out leaves her smarting with resentment. “ what do you mean staying here? ” indignation makes her leap up from the cot she's been made to use, hissing when the movement jostles her injured arm. it's only the searing pain that makes her settle back and relax her tense grip on her rifle.

she doesn't mean to take her anger out on leitha. she also hasn't let them heal her, smarting with shame and anger at herself from vallaki's downfall. letting herself feel the pain felt like penance for her blind trust in a stranger's words. she should have known better. all of them should have, but her most of all. she had looked vasili van holtz dead in the eye and seen nothing. had handed lady wachter the bones herself. how could they not have known it was him?

“ you’re  not  what  i  thought  you  were… ”

an  enemy,  a  looming  threat.  one  cannot  fault  the  mistake;  anyone,  even  one  without  her  keen  ability  to  sense  power  before  it  even  deigned  to  manifest,  would  have  erred  just  the  same.  it  was  no  ordinary  thing  for  a  being  to  radiate  such  raw,  unbridled  energy.  not  even  among  the  creatures  she  so  often  encountered.

despite  the  sheer  force  that  set  her  apart,  margarethe  remained,  at  her  core,  something  that  could  be  broken  with  unsettling  ease.

bathed in salty air, clouds of smoke, facing the water with a forlorn gaze, her elbows rest on the railing overlooking it. the world is quiet here, even if it's just for a moment before they have to continue their journey tomorrow. it's like they're the only ones awake, hidden under a bleak sky, murky blue, nearly gray.  she likes it better when it bursts with colour, but this is just fine. either way, leitha would probably roll their eyes in frustration if she mentions her liking for nature once more. a hum. she stares off into space, for a moment, feeling their gaze weigh her down and split her apart. it's a tantalizing process, really— she can't tell if they're joking, but she knows it brings the same feeling as the parasite in their heads. it's uncomfortable and she would truthfully rather talk about anything else, but she knows trust must be built through moments like these. there's a difficult look in her eyes. she knows it makes her look older than she is, more weary, like a pillar of salt left to face the sea.

her hair swaying in the air, gently, tousled locks and pursed lips, a painting just for the night. she almost cracks a smile, but she's too tired, mind too tangled up in knots. she didn't sleep a wink last night. ❛ you look different in this light, leitha. it's lovely to see. ❜ a quiet thank you. from the time she has spent travelling with them, she's learned how to express her thoughts to them in a way that gives her the result she was hoping for. it is perhaps what works best with her, as well, because as different as these two are, they share more similarities. she thinks of their words once more. ❛ disappointment is perhaps the wrong word here. misplaced would explain it better. ❜ the young sorceress has been asleep for over one hundred years and now that she is alive during a completely different era, she's unsure if there's truly anything for her after they find a solution to the illithid parasite. everything she has held dear has already left the earth. when the end comes, what will become of her?