princess_of_ida | IC Inbox

Godfinn was an asshole and he's dead. Let him stay dead; don't allow his spirit to linger within you. And you'll get to see your sister when you return home.

I'm coming over.

No, won't. Had to banish her. Had to execute her, oh Spirits, Ianthe — they said — and I couldn't — sent her away so they couldn't make me, make her...

[ But then the words click through her self absorbed, self pitying haze. ]

— I'm messy. Not pretty. Think I threw up. Let the goat in, it's sleeping on me.

[Two of them now? If that wasn't a flag that the island needed to change...]

You'll see her again someday. Somehow.

And I don't care. Like any of that will turn me away. You're always pretty, even when you're being a sloppy drunk.

You- you-re-

[ hiccup. ]

Love you so much, Ia'the. No one called me pretty until you did. Makes me sooooooooo happy. Every time I just want to — cry or sing, I don't know. Both, I think.

That's because they all sucked, not seeing what's plain as day.

[Time to head over and clean Gilia up. It was only fair.]

[ She can't help it, she snort-laughs horribly loudly at that answer, and then vindictively offers: ]

They did! They did - 'suck'. [ the modern slang comes out stilted and wrong, but she tries it out anyway. ] One of them said - said my face was 'serviceable to get the job done if he had to' to make me feel better!

But he was five and sixty, and Elspeth told me because thought he was so awful — his other wife gossiped, said his — prick did not work n'more.

Now who can't get job done! No woman in m' family ever has less than fou' healthy babes. But he has to - give them to me first!

[ She peels in laughter, pleased with herself. ]

[Good. Be a little nasty at the people who hurt her.]

He wasn't worthy of your spit. You're better than all of them. You're beautiful, Lia.

Mmm.

[ That at least was happier than where she started. ]

Think I'm tired, now.

[Better was really all Ianthe could ask for.]

Then let the goat go and settle into bed. I'll be there soon.

Suppose that's sensible.

[ She cracks in a yawn, her body finding the suggest a sensible one. Even if her heart reviled to do anything that wasn't punishment of herself.

But it was currently sodden in drink to muffle it, and she let the goat go to do as suggested, stumbling up the stairs to her too big bed. ]

[Ianthe made her way to Gilia's house, Prospero lurking around in the treeline. She let herself inside and went to her drunken wife to clean her up, tuck her into bed, and hold her.]

[ The second she feels her close, she does not even open her eyes, or seem to awaken at all, simply burrows in close. Her arms twined around her, clinging to her side with the strained breathing of someone who had so simply cried herself to sleep. Exhausted and limp with the effort, yet holds so tightly, as if even now, she is afraid she will lose her too. ]

[Prospero was commanded to sit directly in front of the door to keep anyone who might come calling - for good or ill - away. Ianthe would stay as long as she was needed. Eventually she drifted off for a bit, but she was too paranoid to truly sleep in an unsecured location. But lyctors didn't really need sleep like Gilia did.]

IC Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: sex shaming?? body shaming, ageism?? pregnancy in discussion

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject