Post by striaga on Feb 8, 2018 14:07:28 GMT -6
L I E S E L
Liesel, who has always felt so big, feels very small in Sedo.
It's not Golgotha's fault. Alya knows that her new--friend? (Something more, Liesel knows, it's between them, crackling, ever since the trip here, ever since the fight) -- has been trying her best. Liesel is not a woman who really understands these things. She had been a cast-off, shackled and smuggled away on a creaking ship. This is a home, permanent, new. This is something different. Something unlike anything Liesel has ever had. So she feels small in it, like she needs to extend her wings and feel it out, understand that it's alright to take a long evening for herself, that it's fine to relax.
She's never had that right. Never had that chance. The Flight loved her for it. She was their celebrated blacksmith. She found warmth there, but day-to-day it was work and calloused hands and driving herself exhausted; it was drinking herself unconscious after Bethel, after Jun.
Liesel brushes her knuckles against the missing eye.
No hard feelings. And she says it, out loud: "No hard feelings." She has to be absolutely sure that her friend understands. Liesel smiles; her teeth are chipped in the front, no doubt from a strike she'd endured through her wandering years. And even then...
Her throat bobbed.
"I, uhm. It's very...warm." So were the tropics. It was so obvious that Liesel was awkward; she had Aisling, but this was--this was--this was more like what Aisling had with Ouu.
Ouu, who she could have died for. Would have died for. Liesel reached to touch Gogo's hand. "I--" Her tongue caught.
It's not Golgotha's fault. Alya knows that her new--friend? (Something more, Liesel knows, it's between them, crackling, ever since the trip here, ever since the fight) -- has been trying her best. Liesel is not a woman who really understands these things. She had been a cast-off, shackled and smuggled away on a creaking ship. This is a home, permanent, new. This is something different. Something unlike anything Liesel has ever had. So she feels small in it, like she needs to extend her wings and feel it out, understand that it's alright to take a long evening for herself, that it's fine to relax.
She's never had that right. Never had that chance. The Flight loved her for it. She was their celebrated blacksmith. She found warmth there, but day-to-day it was work and calloused hands and driving herself exhausted; it was drinking herself unconscious after Bethel, after Jun.
Liesel brushes her knuckles against the missing eye.
No hard feelings. And she says it, out loud: "No hard feelings." She has to be absolutely sure that her friend understands. Liesel smiles; her teeth are chipped in the front, no doubt from a strike she'd endured through her wandering years. And even then...
Her throat bobbed.
"I, uhm. It's very...warm." So were the tropics. It was so obvious that Liesel was awkward; she had Aisling, but this was--this was--this was more like what Aisling had with Ouu.
Ouu, who she could have died for. Would have died for. Liesel reached to touch Gogo's hand. "I--" Her tongue caught.
WC: 269 | post 1