« Reply #9 on: February 06, 2023, 09:00:36 AM »
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | Geneviève Chaboteaux was not herself.
Every day in the tower was a blur, a lapsing of her mind in and out of proper cognizance. She heard their voices, she knew their words. She knew them, but not these renditions; birthed in the name of a plan uncertain. Creations of deception moulded in the appearance of those she loved. She would roll listlessly in the confines of her cot..
She peered, bleary-eyed, at the skeletal form of her friend, concealed by that horrid, horrid armour.
Battered lips struggled to purse. She wanted to speak - and yet all she could find the energy to do was cry. Cry herself back into that state of unconscious bliss, where she would no longer have to grieve for those standing right by her. Where they would still live, and smile, and pretend to hew lumber in her lounge.
She never really noticed the hands that found themselves about her throat. Perhaps she did not care to, perhaps she was too far gone by the time they came. Only a wheeze was uttered as her attention lapsed once, twice, with the changing light - and the changing scene. How long had it been? She wailed.
Another hand to her throat blessed her with attentiveness. The crisp air of the tower's top felt as if burst blisters against rarely freed skin, a buffet that reddened and bruised with fervour. She recognized so much in such a minute moment. These weren't her clothes, these weren't familiar captors; this was not where she was meant to be. The sullen Hawk before her raised his arms, and..
The offering felt him take..
The offering felt them hit..
The offering felt nothing, evermore.
A battered corpse. An unidentified sacrifice. How does a soul so marred, so pilfered, know its way home?
Dame Geneviève Chaboteaux was returned to her husband's arms with tears in her eyes, and a hit to her little head. “Poor thing,” was uttered. “Poor thing.”
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
« Last Edit: February 06, 2023, 09:04:09 AM by bunnie »
Logged