( Wrath's grip never falters, but she does put up a fight. She'll burn him. She'll burn and she'll burn, and there will be nothing left. Her fists pound at his chest like she can rage her frustrations into something tangible, like she can wail at the grief that wants to drown her when she stops moving long enough to feel it.
It takes Emilia too long to discern this is not her twin's voice.
Too cloying, too whimsical. And toward the end, all too hateful. It can't be.
The spell is playing tricks on her, or perhaps it is her curse: a maddening coalescence. Whatever the reason, darkness encroaches the edges of her vision. Mystifying images burst at the back of her eyelids, too fast for her to absorb. She's unable to pluck any of them, save for one deadly.
Exhausted, she slumps against Wrath at last, the same fists that had meant to bruise suddenly clutching at him, clenching into the fabric of his shirt. She misses the rose-gold glow on her fingertips. They flicker weakly like desperate little torches, before all that light goes to sleep once more. )
I know her. ( Caught between the thrall and her vision, her whisper is feverish, slurred. ) How do I know her?
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It takes Emilia too long to discern this is not her twin's voice.
Too cloying, too whimsical. And toward the end, all too hateful. It can't be.
The spell is playing tricks on her, or perhaps it is her curse: a maddening coalescence. Whatever the reason, darkness encroaches the edges of her vision. Mystifying images burst at the back of her eyelids, too fast for her to absorb. She's unable to pluck any of them, save for one deadly.
Exhausted, she slumps against Wrath at last, the same fists that had meant to bruise suddenly clutching at him, clenching into the fabric of his shirt. She misses the rose-gold glow on her fingertips. They flicker weakly like desperate little torches, before all that light goes to sleep once more. )
I know her. ( Caught between the thrall and her vision, her whisper is feverish, slurred. ) How do I know her?