[ Another starry night, a sprawling garden. There are twelve in the imperial palaces but this one is theirs, and so she knew without needing to be told that it would be here. The dark-haired woman kneels beside her own bloodied body, watching as poison wracks her, killing her faster than the handful of trivial wounds: eye, arm, side, more that she surely hasn't seen yet. But even on the verge of death the other woman is still strong. She reaches up to seize the front of her companion's dress and yanks her forcefully down until their faces nearly touch. ]
Why are you so surprised? They were all ordered to come here and kill you. This was supposed to be your grave. So, how does it feel to have escaped death thanks to being blessed by the guardian deity? Doesn't it seem like I was destined to be sacrificed in your place from the very beginning?
[ The words go through her like a knife of their own. Tears sting her eyes even before she digs her nails into her cut palm. ]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lady Medea. I'm sorry...
What about? What are you sorry about?
[ What is she sorry about? Where does she begin?
That she knew what he was, but didn't allow herself to see it? The bodies of five knights lie scattered on the ground around them like fallen leaves. It would never taken five knights to kill Psyche Callista, who is small and weak and has never held a weapon in her life. But Eros knows what she is, as she knows what he is. She knows without needing to be told what his intention must have been. Two knights to hold her down. Two knights to wield blades. One knight for surety, because Eros is nothing if not meticulous. Five would be enough to ensure that she would exhaust her healing, or her will to heal, had this really been her.
She's sorry that it wasn't her. She's sorry that she wasn't faster. She's sorry for her worthless, powerless blessing that isn't strong enough to stop even one person from dying in front of her. She's sorry that she ever prayed. She's sorry that she ever allowed herself to dream of leaving the basement. She's sorry that she ever existed. Her frustrated tears fall on the woman beneath her and she slams her wounded palm against the ground beside them. ]
I don't want to be weak at a time like this!
[ She shouldn't have wished for her own death. She should have wished to be stronger. So she prays one more time, like a challenge, to the god who has only ever acknowledged her once in her life in this bitter, twisted form.
Give me just one more chance. I won't run away, no matter how much I want to. I will face all of it head-on. I will...
The golden light Merlin saw once before kindles around her, and then ignites, a spark of divinity becoming a conflagration. It burns away the poisons, and the wounds close, leaving unmarred skin. It banishes the darkness around them until the dark-haired woman finally tumbles, exhausted, onto her own body. A moment longer still before the other lifts a hand and gently strokes her hair.
This is the way forward. Stronger. Strong enough that no one she loves will ever be hurt in front of her again. Strong enough to not flinch away from what she doesn't want to see. Strong enough to walk forward without hesitation. The path ahead is clear and certain, the scent of lamp oil and cool stone. Proceed? ]
cw: blood, death, suicidal ideation, torture mention, i am genuinely regret rn
Why are you so surprised? They were all ordered to come here and kill you. This was supposed to be your grave. So, how does it feel to have escaped death thanks to being blessed by the guardian deity? Doesn't it seem like I was destined to be sacrificed in your place from the very beginning?
[ The words go through her like a knife of their own. Tears sting her eyes even before she digs her nails into her cut palm. ]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lady Medea. I'm sorry...
What about? What are you sorry about?
[ What is she sorry about? Where does she begin?
That she knew what he was, but didn't allow herself to see it? The bodies of five knights lie scattered on the ground around them like fallen leaves. It would never taken five knights to kill Psyche Callista, who is small and weak and has never held a weapon in her life. But Eros knows what she is, as she knows what he is. She knows without needing to be told what his intention must have been. Two knights to hold her down. Two knights to wield blades. One knight for surety, because Eros is nothing if not meticulous. Five would be enough to ensure that she would exhaust her healing, or her will to heal, had this really been her.
She's sorry that it wasn't her. She's sorry that she wasn't faster. She's sorry for her worthless, powerless blessing that isn't strong enough to stop even one person from dying in front of her. She's sorry that she ever prayed. She's sorry that she ever allowed herself to dream of leaving the basement. She's sorry that she ever existed. Her frustrated tears fall on the woman beneath her and she slams her wounded palm against the ground beside them. ]
I don't want to be weak at a time like this!
[ She shouldn't have wished for her own death. She should have wished to be stronger. So she prays one more time, like a challenge, to the god who has only ever acknowledged her once in her life in this bitter, twisted form.
Give me just one more chance. I won't run away, no matter how much I want to. I will face all of it head-on. I will...
The golden light Merlin saw once before kindles around her, and then ignites, a spark of divinity becoming a conflagration. It burns away the poisons, and the wounds close, leaving unmarred skin. It banishes the darkness around them until the dark-haired woman finally tumbles, exhausted, onto her own body. A moment longer still before the other lifts a hand and gently strokes her hair.
This is the way forward. Stronger. Strong enough that no one she loves will ever be hurt in front of her again. Strong enough to not flinch away from what she doesn't want to see. Strong enough to walk forward without hesitation. The path ahead is clear and certain, the scent of lamp oil and cool stone. Proceed? ]