>>6310637“You are a useless sack of filth,” you spew, anger rising once again. Why does it have to be you? After all these… these news, about the Moon, and the sun, and whatever happened, why does it have to be you here with her?
You looked up to Bragia! You loved her like the big sister you always missed.
Someone that could inspire you, and now—now she’s here taunting you with your decisions and your most-likely death. So, why not? Let it all out. You were always better with swords than with words, but blades had proven useless, so how about trying a new thing for once?
Maybe this is thinking with your own head.
The Stilladìa sighs, seemingly growing more bored.
Does she think this would stop you?
Nobody stops.
“My entire <span class="mu-i">family</span> was thrown into poverty because of <span class="mu-i">you!</span> Because of your filthy money-grabbing merchants selling my homestead for a handful of silver coins! You and your mercantile empire should just burn! Burn!” You spit at her and it lands between her legs.
“How many people has your wine killed, Argia Candente?”
What?
You shake your head.
“That—you make no sense. Stop… stop it!”
“A drunken man, growing angry and battering his wife’s head until it bursts. Unable to stop himself due to inebriation. An old farmer driving a carriage, falling off a cliff in drunken stupor. A group of kids, falling into lidless sleep, choking on their own vomit, after they spent the night sharing bottles. Bottles you sold.” She sighs. “You never stopped to think of that. If your wine could produce so much evil, shouldn’t you be held responsible?”
“<span class="mu-i">Shut up!</span>” You shriek, standing up on shaking legs, pointing your bandaged hand at her. “You know—nothing—nothing of me or my family! We—it was our craft, you wretched devil! We were —proud!—proud of our wine! I used to run through the vineyards with my brothers! People were happy! We were happy! Give! It! Back!”
Tears run down your cheeks, fat and warm.
“Give it back—”
Like a sail losing its wind, you fall back against the wall and once more you slump like a sack of bricks.
This time, Lithala of the Night Lands does not pick you up.
<span class="mu-i">Give it back,</span> you mouth.
To her? To yourself?
To Ansàrra?
No answer either way.
[cont.]
