( with every passing second and every step taken, eda's urge to abscond intensifies. she wants to leave, she wants to leave, she wants to leave. this entire building, this entire place gives her an ill feeling, like a dull press on the button that would be her panic instinct.
it does her no favours that her body feels exhausted, sore, and sluggish. this much, at least, is familiar; the usual experience after she'd been transformed for long periods of time. the owl beast within her always wrings her out like a sponge. taking everything she had and then some. she's a little more acutely aware of it right now with her memories so fresh in her mind—painfully, bitterly aware.
there's an open hole in her chest, bleeding with the years of lost potential. years of building a career, a legacy, a name, a family. years of living a life without the fear of the beast inside of her devouring her alive, tearing off a little more of her with each conflict.
years of loving a child that never existed. years of having her sister.
years of something eda knows that she was never meant to have.
a sense of loneliness settles within her, making itself at home.
her feet continue to carry her forward anyway, following the guidance of the heroes to find the room they'd put hunter in. when she finds him, he looks like little less than a smear against the big white wall. he looks so small, so fragile, so—
familiar. for a brief second, she thinks back to herself spending years alone inside of a broken down old tower. nights spent curled in on herself, face tear-streaked and red. )
Hey.
( eda eventually says after a moment. slowly, gradually she moves to kneel down in front of him.
she doesn't know what to say, where to begin—she's not his aunt eda, not his anything—but. . .
no subject
it does her no favours that her body feels exhausted, sore, and sluggish. this much, at least, is familiar; the usual experience after she'd been transformed for long periods of time. the owl beast within her always wrings her out like a sponge. taking everything she had and then some. she's a little more acutely aware of it right now with her memories so fresh in her mind—painfully, bitterly aware.
there's an open hole in her chest, bleeding with the years of lost potential. years of building a career, a legacy, a name, a family. years of living a life without the fear of the beast inside of her devouring her alive, tearing off a little more of her with each conflict.
years of loving a child that never existed. years of having her sister.
years of something eda knows that she was never meant to have.
a sense of loneliness settles within her, making itself at home.
her feet continue to carry her forward anyway, following the guidance of the heroes to find the room they'd put hunter in. when she finds him, he looks like little less than a smear against the big white wall. he looks so small, so fragile, so—
familiar. for a brief second, she thinks back to herself spending years alone inside of a broken down old tower. nights spent curled in on herself, face tear-streaked and red. )
Hey.
( eda eventually says after a moment. slowly, gradually she moves to kneel down in front of him.
she doesn't know what to say, where to begin—she's not his aunt eda, not his anything—but. . .
she is here. )