Private Tales Pact of Flame

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
His hand snapped up. His fist closed around the shard. The chasing caught the slight as it dangled from his hand.

"Hmm what are you..." he thought out loud.

"It seems it does not want to tell me," he said. His voice was tinged with frustration.

"No matter," he lied, "it does not matter how the prophecy came to be, only that you are here."

After all the fire and rage that he had forced her to accept, Azrakar was now a frustratingly solid wall against her pain and frustration.

"Come," he beckoned. "Rest on the bed if you will not eat."

The glass, he thought to himself. There was likely enough there for her to make a shard to slit her own throat.

That was going to be a problem. It would take so much time and energy just to keep her alive.
 
  • Frog Eyes
Reactions: Saeris
Saeris gave a hollow, humourless laugh that rasped in her dry throat. “Prophecy,” she repeated, the word thick with scorn. “If you think I have anything to do with this bullshit prophecy of yours, you are fucking delusional.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t stop. “You have it wrong. You have me wrong.”

She turned her face away from him, shaking her head as if trying to rid herself of the sound of his voice, of the weight of his calm. After all the rage he’d unleashed, his sudden stillness and composure felt worse. It was a wall she couldn’t scream through, couldn’t reach, couldn’t even dent.

When he gestured toward the bed, her eyes flicked to it, betraying her for just a heartbeat. The blankets looked impossibly soft. The thought of sinking into them, of easing the ache in her limbs and letting her exhaustion claim her, nearly undid her restraint. Her body screamed for rest, for mercy.

But mercy from him was another kind of trap.

Her jaw set. “I’ll rest when I’m dead,” she muttered, dragging her knees closer to her chest. Her fingers trembled slightly as she wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to move toward the bed even as her body leaned that way without her consent.

The firelight wavered across her face, catching the hollow of her eyes and the defiance that still burned there. “You can keep your bed, your food, and your prophecies. I want nothing from you.”