>>6325789>Can she even interact with the people here? Maybe she should just… wave? Do they even speak English? Or whatever sort of language she spoke ever since she arrived in this world…Argia is not here, though.
She is not here to comfort her, she is not there to hold her hand and to tell her everything will be just fine.
To have faith.
The same faith that would have condemned her to oblivion, if Willow had not taken the situation into her own… ugggh her fucking innards still hurt like a bitch—into her own fucking hands.
“Hey, you slags,” she calls out to the Kiengir figures walking back and forth.
And also, withdrawing from whatever surface that might delight her with more soft and warm surprises.
None of that, thank you very much.
But no voice calls out, none of the gorgeous visages—they are so beautiful it is difficult not to stare enchanted at them, and each of them makes her stomach make fucking flip-flops like she’s in fucking middle school again—none of the Kiengir turn towards her.
It’s like she’s not even there.
Well, perhaps there’s a good thing.
She flips the bird at the closest one, rushing out a slew of curses that would make even Rubida grow crimson—and this does make her feel a bit better.
Just a bit.
Until, heaving and tired, but at least feeling a bit lighter, she spots a single woman passing by, holding her arms behind her back. As she walks, even the other Kiengir stop and stare, and the…things they carry on lashes yap and purr and sing and growl and moan.
“Oh God,” Willow groans, covering her mouth. The woman is a vision, almost as gorgeous as Argia herself, even with her flowing black hair so different from her favourite Knight’s divine silver.
And also, you know. Those fucking things skittering like pets, with too many arms and without hair and their skin far too pink and what the fuck what the fuck what the FUC—
[cont.]
