[As beloved as anything Alina gifts her is – including this, the glimpse into her past, her life before Saltburnt, a cracked door through which shadows spill – Alia loathes the cause of it. The monstrosity of this place has wrenched away the safe, peaceful, sunlit bubble of safety they had created, her and Paul and Alina, the idea that any of them could simply be young and in love and not chosen or marked by fate.
The veil is gone. The bubble, popped. The story that should’ve been given in time, bits and pieces offered as she and Alina grew together, twining vines, shifting sands, as they built a new home, a new family, a new life. It should be murmured in their bed, sunshine streaming in the windows, Alia’s fingers stroking through Alina’s curls, twining one around her fingers as this chapter of her beloved’s life is revealed. It should’ve been told when Alina was ready, and not one moment before.
But they don’t have any more moments. A windowless cell, beneath their feet, awaits Alia by any measure, her accusers stand triumphant, and whatever comes, she will not be there to shield or comfort those she adores. And who knows what the morrow will bring?]
It was him, who I felt. That night I stepped into your mind. Like an echo. Like a dreamed memory. That is how it is, for me. You did not choose that, Alina. You would not. It wasn’t your fault.
I carry my ancestor’s minds inside my own. They whisper to me, they command and cajole. I have heard them since before I was born. Sometimes I cannot drown them out. Once, here, my control slipped. I do not remember that night, Alina. I slept and had no dreams, awoke without blood on my hands, but I do not remember that night.
If I am what they say, they will seek vengeance. Paul will try to fight them. And I will be locked away, unable to help.
no subject
The veil is gone. The bubble, popped. The story that should’ve been given in time, bits and pieces offered as she and Alina grew together, twining vines, shifting sands, as they built a new home, a new family, a new life. It should be murmured in their bed, sunshine streaming in the windows, Alia’s fingers stroking through Alina’s curls, twining one around her fingers as this chapter of her beloved’s life is revealed. It should’ve been told when Alina was ready, and not one moment before.
But they don’t have any more moments. A windowless cell, beneath their feet, awaits Alia by any measure, her accusers stand triumphant, and whatever comes, she will not be there to shield or comfort those she adores. And who knows what the morrow will bring?]
It was him, who I felt. That night I stepped into your mind.
Like an echo. Like a dreamed memory.
That is how it is, for me.
You did not choose that, Alina. You would not.
It wasn’t your fault.
I carry my ancestor’s minds inside my own. They whisper to me, they command and cajole. I have heard them since before I was born.
Sometimes I cannot drown them out. Once, here, my control slipped.
I do not remember that night, Alina. I slept and had no dreams, awoke without blood on my hands, but I do not remember that night.
If I am what they say, they will seek vengeance.
Paul will try to fight them. And I will be locked away, unable to help.