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Entry tags:
you need to hear this
WHO: Ginevra Trevelyan, Blackwall
WHERE: Haven | Stables
WHEN: Post-Champions of the Just
WARNINGS: Post attempted possession/mindfuckery
Envy had twisted her cabin. Twisted the perspective, scattered skulls and sinister foliage and Fade-green light. She had stood on the ceiling which was the floor and peered up at the floor which was the ceiling, and none of this is new. She's been to the Fade before. She's has spirits try and possess her before. But this...
I touched so much of you, but you are selfish with your glory. Now I'm no one, Envy had hiss-yelled and everyone had heard it.
And it had twisted her cabin.
It's one reason why she's out here, walking the streets of Haven at night. There's snow in the air (isn't there always, here?) and it's cold, but she'd been stupidly, childishly grateful for her cabin. A generous space to which she could retreat, but currently when she closes her eyes it all becomes tainted with green. Ginevra needs air. She didn't need an excuse, but Blackwall had provided her with one. Blackwall, who had been there. Had heard Envy. Had fought Envy, with her.
He'd asked – no, that was the wrong word. He offered her the stables, offered his company in a roundabout way. No expectation, no pressure. No, you should talk about this, no shouting about how she made the wrong call about offering the Templars a true alliance and a chance to rebuild themselves. Just an offer.
So Ginevra is here, at the stables. She knows where he is, can see his large, solid form out of the corner of her eye. She will walk over to him in a moment, or he will to her. But at this moment, this exact moment, she's stroking one of Dennet's horses, leaning in close to breathe in the horsey, alive smell, feel the warmth of the mare's breath in the cold, and be reminded that she's not caught in her own mind.
WHERE: Haven | Stables
WHEN: Post-Champions of the Just
WARNINGS: Post attempted possession/mindfuckery
Envy had twisted her cabin. Twisted the perspective, scattered skulls and sinister foliage and Fade-green light. She had stood on the ceiling which was the floor and peered up at the floor which was the ceiling, and none of this is new. She's been to the Fade before. She's has spirits try and possess her before. But this...
I touched so much of you, but you are selfish with your glory. Now I'm no one, Envy had hiss-yelled and everyone had heard it.
And it had twisted her cabin.
It's one reason why she's out here, walking the streets of Haven at night. There's snow in the air (isn't there always, here?) and it's cold, but she'd been stupidly, childishly grateful for her cabin. A generous space to which she could retreat, but currently when she closes her eyes it all becomes tainted with green. Ginevra needs air. She didn't need an excuse, but Blackwall had provided her with one. Blackwall, who had been there. Had heard Envy. Had fought Envy, with her.
He'd asked – no, that was the wrong word. He offered her the stables, offered his company in a roundabout way. No expectation, no pressure. No, you should talk about this, no shouting about how she made the wrong call about offering the Templars a true alliance and a chance to rebuild themselves. Just an offer.
So Ginevra is here, at the stables. She knows where he is, can see his large, solid form out of the corner of her eye. She will walk over to him in a moment, or he will to her. But at this moment, this exact moment, she's stroking one of Dennet's horses, leaning in close to breathe in the horsey, alive smell, feel the warmth of the mare's breath in the cold, and be reminded that she's not caught in her own mind.
no subject
Not that they wouldn't have reason, but really it's better not to drink oneself in to a stupor after something like this. He would know. He's done it.