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Behind the cloth, dyed red like she had thought her soul to be, the small muscles around her closed eyes trembled slightly with the force that kept sightless scarlet tight shut. Part of her still expected to wake up and discover that what she was experiencing right now was just part of a long-lasting nightmare. She knew better, though. There was much to let out, but not now when in the presence of this particular male. The man she loved to hate. But she had never only held blind disgust for her leader. Her extreme views had disallowed her to accept him as her superior, and it had stuck. Now she had been forced to realize that even traitors of the blood and the clan would be more worth than her. With useless eyes and broken bones, she’d be the clan’s burden. How was she supposed to be able to live with herself?
She didn’t—she really didn’t want this to be real. Cream gloved fingers intended to reach up to cover up the slight tremble of her lower lip as the long lasted façade cracked the slightest, but remained immobile with surprise as the Aquila’s warm hand reached to clasp them. Internally, she stirred, though after a moment of perfect stillness, the woman’s own fingers responded to the simple touch, held on to the hand that she couldn’t even remember the shade of. There were so many wonderful things she’d taken for granted. She had been ridiculously oblivious.
He sounded sincere, and she didn’t have the energy to distrust him at the moment. There were too many things happening all at once, and although it was Ezekiel that sat by her side, he was one more than none. She had always been alone, but not in this way. The pressure of her latte fingers increased against his, with the slightest of trembles. Her world was fucked up beyond anything she had imagined. Again. ”I’m sorry,” she repeated, bitter and stiff with the weight of inescapable defeat. If she looked at it from a less opinionated perspective, this was all her fault. Perhaps things would be better for the clan now once the Aquila could choose a Triarii he actually could trust and properly interact with. She had failed him, and it wasn’t until now she seemed to be able to take a good, long look at the errors of her ruthless ways. A week with blindness hadn’t changed who she was, but days went by slowly and gave much and more room for thoughts, and there were a lot of them.
Your faith walks on broken glass
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