>>6084991>third 51 in what, twelve rolls?amazing.
>girls sweatyea -- and this is nothing next to the post-apocalyptic setting which literally ran on girl bathwater. what a time to be a writer
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>>6084323“I—” you raise your arm, your heart beating so fast you can feel it over the roar of the flames. “I— wanted to thank this generous town for allowing us to recover.” You gulp. What else. There is something you ought to say. Something that may sound more… appropriate. What would these people want to hear from you? The sun scholar seemed to really want you there, for some reason.
You hesitate, your hand falling at your side. Throat feels constricted. Like a giant hand is squeezing it. Salicera’s eyes look for your face, and you see Rubida glancing at you, even as she maintains her algid countenance.
Master would do so much better.
But then— a change.
You go back to the vision you had just after your molten spring, and just before Salicera showed how much she cared. The vision of Saint Bragia, standing half-naked and sweaty, tanned and scarred, before the wall.
“We have passed through the dark to come here,” you continue, the words sprouting from some deep place within you. Just beneath your cameo, your chest still itches — the wound — the black ichor that for a while mixed to your blood, the taint of the Sisters—
Excised.
“Through it and out.” Your breath hitches but you push through. “I come from a place of darkness.”
Your somber mood slowly spreads on the stage — murmurs cease, words fall into silence. Waving hands still. Even the flames seem to flow slower as they each follow you.
“You seem to share the love I hold for my-my homeland. It is indeed beautiful! I wish I could see the lazy waves caressed by the wind, the cypresses stand tall before the warm wind, the reeds blooming to their ripe crimson when it’s time for the harvest. But it is also dark.” Your hands slowly ball into fist. An ancient anger — the same you let Rubida peek at that afternoon — rears its black head of smoke and embers and it growls from the heated pit of your stomach. “The arms of the Adversary have grown long, and she grasped our home and our vineyard. I-I used to be a vintner. Do you want to know why I haven’t touched a drop of wine in six years?”
You take a step forward. Another. Salicera regards you with awe, and Rubida bites softly into her lip, thinking about your previous words.
