- Messages
- 26
- Character Biography
- Link
Esper’s slender brows drew together, a small frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. Skeletons? She wondered what he meant, though she was not sure she wanted to know.
The discomfort she felt from him was unmistakable as he asked his question. It made her shift, made her realise how closely she’d pressed to him without thought. She pulled back, folding in on herself, shame flushing her skin. She was used to her proximity being forced, but she'd allowed herself to lean against him, rather than trying her best to pull away
“Forgive me,” she murmured, eyes flicking to the fire instead of his face. Her arms looped around her knees, small and careful now. The bracer on her wrist glinted in the flickering light, and she turned it absently, feeling again the memory of iron. The weight of it. The way it had drained her until she was nothing. Powerless. Pained. Pathetic...
“The iron took my strength. For weeks..” Her voice thinned to almost a whisper. “I was fading. I thought I would never burn again. It was... cold." Her eyes lifted, drawn to him.
“But you..” Her head tilted, studying his face as though trying to read something in the shadows there.
“You carry fire in your blood. It is like sunlight to me. I breathe easier near it.."
She hesitated, then offered him a quiet truth, her gaze softening.. “There are several.. authors. I am not free. But you… You do not make me suffer, Gerra of Molthal. That is already more mercy than most have given.”
The fire crackled. She held his eyes a heartbeat longer before looking back to the fire and resting her chin atop her knees.
The discomfort she felt from him was unmistakable as he asked his question. It made her shift, made her realise how closely she’d pressed to him without thought. She pulled back, folding in on herself, shame flushing her skin. She was used to her proximity being forced, but she'd allowed herself to lean against him, rather than trying her best to pull away
“Forgive me,” she murmured, eyes flicking to the fire instead of his face. Her arms looped around her knees, small and careful now. The bracer on her wrist glinted in the flickering light, and she turned it absently, feeling again the memory of iron. The weight of it. The way it had drained her until she was nothing. Powerless. Pained. Pathetic...
“The iron took my strength. For weeks..” Her voice thinned to almost a whisper. “I was fading. I thought I would never burn again. It was... cold." Her eyes lifted, drawn to him.
“But you..” Her head tilted, studying his face as though trying to read something in the shadows there.
“You carry fire in your blood. It is like sunlight to me. I breathe easier near it.."
She hesitated, then offered him a quiet truth, her gaze softening.. “There are several.. authors. I am not free. But you… You do not make me suffer, Gerra of Molthal. That is already more mercy than most have given.”
The fire crackled. She held his eyes a heartbeat longer before looking back to the fire and resting her chin atop her knees.
