Friendship bracelets are making a resurgence, but this time, lance wielders are tying them to the shafts of their weapons to show off their popularity. Join the cool kids and decorate your lance with some sick new threads. [Grants Lance +1]
She sits, cross legged, at a table in the reception hall. Alone. Her body was still battered and bruised from last monthāsĀ āmissionā but physical wounds healed far easier than emotional ones. Rhedrise had burned itself in her vision - the chaos, stench of blood and screaming still rang in her ears. Then there was Melanthios and the dread he struck in her heart...
Mercedes had to tell herself it wasnāt real. Focus her attentions on something physical, constant and light. So she weaves colourful threads around one another, the sixth one now. She isnāt sure who to give them to once sheās finished.
He walks past. A familiar figure, stirring up an old ache anew. An image in her mind of a young girl, ashen blonde hair gathered into a french braid. The childās hands guide another, smaller pair. Violet eyes beg her for aid, to help untangle the mess of embroidery floss the youngest had entangled herself in. Another child drifts to sleep and green eyes watch her every move from afar. Cautious and challenging.
What a lonely little memory. One to bury deeper this time, so itās jagged edges cannot catch against delicate hands ever again.
āCare to join me, Hubert? For old timesā sake.ā
She isnāt sure why she botherās asking. Expects a rejection, from the man who even at eight years old had better things to do with his time than something so frivolous. Mercedes supposes itās the company she seeks. Her own thoughts alone are haunting but she finds herself avoiding the warmth of her friends. They treat her like porcelain, which serves only to remind her that something is very wrong. Something about her has changed, perhaps irrevocably. She certainly feels broken and tarnished.
