so give me your half-life crisis \ areto & julian / day 4
Jul 22, 2021 0:21:59 GMT -5
Post by tick 12a / calla on Jul 22, 2021 0:21:59 GMT -5
A R E T O
► ► ►
Defying Avriel's judgemental look, Areto leaves camp as soon as she's been patched up. She needs to stretch her legs, she needs to be alone, she needs a week to even begin to comprehend the past twelve hours.
She thinks of Aspen and Emerson, of Love and Julian, and the pathwork of it gives her a headache. Her temples pound, and there's a spot against her ribcage that stings when she breathes. The thunder makes it so she can't even hear herself think and every time the lightning flashes she sees an outline of gold above her.
Areto takes another step, trapped in another lightning flash, and halts at the sight of that familiar gold again.
Almost familiar.
Almost.
She'd been harsh towards Julian at the feast but now she feels worn thin. She feels like she's been raked over a row of stakes and left to rot. It's not just her injuries that make her stumble, and it's not just the rain that makes her feet slip against the rocks. She doesn't have the energy to fight with him now.
She steps across the grass and raises her hands.
“Peace.” She calls out, and tries not to choke on it.
Areto sinks to the ground beneath the tree, landing heavy but keeping distance from Julian, laying her sword across her feet. The rain drips intermittently from the leaves above them and Areto watches it fall for a long moment without saying anything, desperately trying to mask the way she has to catch her breath.
She bites the bullet eventually, steeling her shoulders and toying with the end of the bandages around her waist. She keeps her eyes on the trail and her fingers drift to where the stab wound is, pressing into a dull ache.
"Aspen said that killing Emerson was her idea." Areto tells Julian, half-hoping the downpour will cover her words and they won't have to have this conversation.
“The puppeteer.” She says wryly, and when she smiles there’s no humour in it. The grass rips under her nails as she pushes her palms into the earth and shakes her head. Her chin slowly lowers to her knees, and she feels a little bit like crying.
"I don't know what to believe anymore." She admits.
And it feels like a defeat.
She thinks of Aspen and Emerson, of Love and Julian, and the pathwork of it gives her a headache. Her temples pound, and there's a spot against her ribcage that stings when she breathes. The thunder makes it so she can't even hear herself think and every time the lightning flashes she sees an outline of gold above her.
Areto takes another step, trapped in another lightning flash, and halts at the sight of that familiar gold again.
Almost familiar.
Almost.
She'd been harsh towards Julian at the feast but now she feels worn thin. She feels like she's been raked over a row of stakes and left to rot. It's not just her injuries that make her stumble, and it's not just the rain that makes her feet slip against the rocks. She doesn't have the energy to fight with him now.
She steps across the grass and raises her hands.
“Peace.” She calls out, and tries not to choke on it.
Areto sinks to the ground beneath the tree, landing heavy but keeping distance from Julian, laying her sword across her feet. The rain drips intermittently from the leaves above them and Areto watches it fall for a long moment without saying anything, desperately trying to mask the way she has to catch her breath.
She bites the bullet eventually, steeling her shoulders and toying with the end of the bandages around her waist. She keeps her eyes on the trail and her fingers drift to where the stab wound is, pressing into a dull ache.
"Aspen said that killing Emerson was her idea." Areto tells Julian, half-hoping the downpour will cover her words and they won't have to have this conversation.
“The puppeteer.” She says wryly, and when she smiles there’s no humour in it. The grass rips under her nails as she pushes her palms into the earth and shakes her head. Her chin slowly lowers to her knees, and she feels a little bit like crying.
"I don't know what to believe anymore." She admits.
And it feels like a defeat.
