[ In a tight circle, she paced, back and forth like she could wear the floor in a groove. Her eyes screwing shut, then open and then closed because she was still just here, and the rage would not leave. Each breath heavy in through her nose as she flexed her fingers in front of her.
Flexed flat as she felt the water in the room, then curled them in, bent like claws to draw it into her. Whipping that whirlpool around her like a blade. ]
Why is the only thing that settles the vainglorious pride of these men blood?!
[ It does not need an answer, obviously. The bitter harsh whisper where she knows not to raise her voice. She does.
But she finds it rising and rushing like a storm anyway. Up and shrill and sharp, rattling out of her chest. ]
Why always to make enemies than to admit fault!? How does that make them great?! To bleed out in their mewling, pathetic suffering like a whining babe, rather than accepting kindness enough to even staunch a wound?!
What is so grand about having pain and fear and paranoia than just to β tΜΈΜΜΜΝΜΜ¦oΜ΄ΜΝ β !
[ She snaps on the control, held so tightly, her head beating with the agony and roaring fury of it teeth clenched -
Only in the last second does it change direction, for the inanimate objects of the room, rather than Ianthe's body or anyone else nearby.
And the water inside every object in the room exploded as she ripped it free to answer her hurt. The plants, the cups with drinks on the table, her little jars of preserves. Shattering into pieces, glass and ceramics flying as she breathed and breathed and breathed trying to get her control back. ]
no subject
Flexed flat as she felt the water in the room, then curled them in, bent like claws to draw it into her. Whipping that whirlpool around her like a blade. ]
Why is the only thing that settles the vainglorious pride of these men blood?!
[ It does not need an answer, obviously. The bitter harsh whisper where she knows not to raise her voice. She does.
But she finds it rising and rushing like a storm anyway. Up and shrill and sharp, rattling out of her chest. ]
Why always to make enemies than to admit fault!? How does that make them great?! To bleed out in their mewling, pathetic suffering like a whining babe, rather than accepting kindness enough to even staunch a wound?!
What is so grand about having pain and fear and paranoia than just to β tΜΈΜΜΜΝΜΜ¦oΜ΄ΜΝ β !
[ She snaps on the control, held so tightly, her head beating with the agony and roaring fury of it teeth clenched -
Only in the last second does it change direction, for the inanimate objects of the room, rather than Ianthe's body or anyone else nearby.
And the water inside every object in the room exploded as she ripped it free to answer her hurt. The plants, the cups with drinks on the table, her little jars of preserves. Shattering into pieces, glass and ceramics flying as she breathed and breathed and breathed trying to get her control back. ]