[ She arranges her skirts to sit beside him, as good as anywhere else to sit, curious as much as wary about what they would be shown. To stare into the mind of the spirits could be a great deal for any mortal, and she treats it with the reverence accorded. Lifting her hand to cup the prayers that she whispers of protection and respect.
Then it begins, and she watches as rapt as they all are. The play of figures that are doomed to tragedy, betrayal, and pain that is far, far too close to home. It chokes the back of her throat like the knife blade had once come so close to ending her. Enough that she rises up to curl her fingers against her neck, reassuring herself that it was not still open and bleeding horrors of protection. Digging her thumb into the scar that is left behind - and here in this place, just skin, now. Not a weeping monstrosity of power and ugliness. Something in her aches, it wants to weep, weep at familiar tales of what rulers should, and will always, give up.
His gaze feels like prickling on her skin, her own in return that comes in a mingling of fear and acceptance. Swallowing and feeling her breath slow with some effort. ]
The people always like such stories. [ All she can admit, in the end. She knows what she is, and what will always be expected of her. ]
where my starbuck
Then it begins, and she watches as rapt as they all are. The play of figures that are doomed to tragedy, betrayal, and pain that is far, far too close to home. It chokes the back of her throat like the knife blade had once come so close to ending her. Enough that she rises up to curl her fingers against her neck, reassuring herself that it was not still open and bleeding horrors of protection. Digging her thumb into the scar that is left behind - and here in this place, just skin, now. Not a weeping monstrosity of power and ugliness. Something in her aches, it wants to weep, weep at familiar tales of what rulers should, and will always, give up.
His gaze feels like prickling on her skin, her own in return that comes in a mingling of fear and acceptance. Swallowing and feeling her breath slow with some effort. ]
The people always like such stories. [ All she can admit, in the end. She knows what she is, and what will always be expected of her. ]