her ankles ache as her heels dig in painfully to the grass, the ground, shoulders set and even with the downsize on nothing there's strength a streak of dirt remains where she'd been--
of course, it doesn't take much to throw her off onto her backside again, but as ever don'll get to standing as best she can, even if she's beyond beginning to ache. ]
I do not need thee to put words in this mouth of mine. Just as I do not know thee, thou'rt unaware of myself.
[ simple as that. "the red mist would never," they cry in her place, "i shan't forgive thee for speaking so poorly of her," angered as can be. don has killed with no remorse. she'll be the first to say so, for justice and the like -- but killed all the same, without a second thought, even her own allies. that's true. it isn't anything to get angry over. but someone as renowned and a stunning example of all that was labeled hope as the red mist...
can't let that go unaddressed, in some way. it doesn't matter if roland lets her stand again, if she's pinned she'll still talk, if she's choked she'll struggle them out, if she's suffocated the flowers will talk for her-- so on, so on. ]
-- But it is because I have come to learn what it means to care for, and be cared for by others, that I can say that my justice is-- is nothing self-righteous -- it is born from my desire to protect those who I can. Because I want to protect them.
[ the flowers are silent.
perhaps they wouldn't have been a month, a week ago. but they're quiet now. ]
no subject
her ankles ache as her heels dig in painfully to the grass, the ground, shoulders set and even with the downsize on nothing there's strength a streak of dirt remains where she'd been--
of course, it doesn't take much to throw her off onto her backside again, but as ever don'll get to standing as best she can, even if she's beyond beginning to ache. ]
I do not need thee to put words in this mouth of mine. Just as I do not know thee, thou'rt unaware of myself.
[ simple as that. "the red mist would never," they cry in her place, "i shan't forgive thee for speaking so poorly of her," angered as can be. don has killed with no remorse. she'll be the first to say so, for justice and the like -- but killed all the same, without a second thought, even her own allies. that's true. it isn't anything to get angry over. but someone as renowned and a stunning example of all that was labeled hope as the red mist...
can't let that go unaddressed, in some way. it doesn't matter if roland lets her stand again, if she's pinned she'll still talk, if she's choked she'll struggle them out, if she's suffocated the flowers will talk for her-- so on, so on. ]
-- But it is because I have come to learn what it means to care for, and be cared for by others, that I can say that my justice is-- is nothing self-righteous -- it is born from my desire to protect those who I can. Because I want to protect them.
[ the flowers are silent.
perhaps they wouldn't have been a month, a week ago. but they're quiet now. ]