[ It is only ever her seemingly hardened countenance that belies her fragility. Her emotions are ever turbulent but buried deep, aching her in ways that defy description, the cracks and fissures hidden within but long and jagged like her markings.
A relentless chorus in her head, why do you not act, to seize the power of this arbiter of quintessence, instead of allowing this--?
But Pyra is speaking to her, she must focus on Pyra's words because if she has dared to call people her friends then she must trust them more than this. And she had... considered her a friend, hadn't she? Before all of this, before she'd even said the word, or trusted herself to use it.
Remember you are present, Pyra's words ring above the fray, but then, Helping... as-is.
And that's when Honerva feels something shatter within, because she is not carven, she only carries the hurt of thousands of centuries that it was in her nature ever to suppress. Even now with those dangerous, cloying voices, how could she be good as-is when she never truly has been enough?
... But there was Lup, and in this moment she ached for her. Her hand remains there in Pyra's but it trembles as she leans over suddenly, her breathing sharp and quick, short gasps, because what good did it do? There was no one to throw her anger and pain at but herself. He had deserved better. He had been her whole reason for trying to change at all, even if she could never go to him. And now...? ]
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A relentless chorus in her head, why do you not act, to seize the power of this arbiter of quintessence, instead of allowing this--?
But Pyra is speaking to her, she must focus on Pyra's words because if she has dared to call people her friends then she must trust them more than this. And she had... considered her a friend, hadn't she? Before all of this, before she'd even said the word, or trusted herself to use it.
Remember you are present, Pyra's words ring above the fray, but then, Helping... as-is.
And that's when Honerva feels something shatter within, because she is not carven, she only carries the hurt of thousands of centuries that it was in her nature ever to suppress. Even now with those dangerous, cloying voices, how could she be good as-is when she never truly has been enough?
... But there was Lup, and in this moment she ached for her. Her hand remains there in Pyra's but it trembles as she leans over suddenly, her breathing sharp and quick, short gasps, because what good did it do? There was no one to throw her anger and pain at but herself. He had deserved better. He had been her whole reason for trying to change at all, even if she could never go to him. And now...? ]