Either you think I'm stupid, or you honestly believe that. You denied yourself for so many years, I shouldn't be surprised if you willingly pull wool over your own eyes.
The seers are not Grisha. I care not how they wield their power. Or if it corrupts them.
( that's what zoya's needling at, after all, isn't it? fully aware that it's a scab that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds, the more it's picked at — but she's never been one to shy from digging her hands into her gouges and bruises. mal is proof enough of it.
she hates her more for it, but not nearly as much as she hates that it's an echo of her own thoughts, as if she's shouted all of her insecurities into a well and has to hear them spit back up at her. an incessant, ringing reminder of what she's done. )
If this is what your idea of caring looks like, I'd rather we go back to the way we were before. At least it felt more honest than this.
I wasn't looking for you at all. You came to me. You really haven't changed at all, if you're still blaming me for what you started.
( clinging to that petty rivalry with her teeth might be the most normalcy she's seen, since the werewolves' hunt ended — in some sick sense, she supposes she should thank zoya for that, even as she digs between alina's ribs. an unrepentant hound, looking for whatever bone of truth alina has buried. to sniff out new ways to judge her as lesser, not nearly good enough, knowing zoya's penchant for sinking her teeth into old scars. )
I'm not your problem. We're not even real allies, here. I'm not the Sun Summoner anymore. You have no need for me. You just like poking your finger into wounds. You always have.
And you've always lacked the compassion to be a good one.
Don't fool yourself, Nazyalensky. I was Nikolai's first choice. He never bothered to ever mention you. And do you know why? Because I'll always be his first choice. Enjoy the taste of my leftovers. You usually do.
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no subject
The seers are not Grisha. I care not how they wield their power.
Or if it corrupts them.
no subject
( that's what zoya's needling at, after all, isn't it? fully aware that it's a scab that bleeds and bleeds and bleeds, the more it's picked at — but she's never been one to shy from digging her hands into her gouges and bruises. mal is proof enough of it.
she hates her more for it, but not nearly as much as she hates that it's an echo of her own thoughts, as if she's shouted all of her insecurities into a well and has to hear them spit back up at her. an incessant, ringing reminder of what she's done. )
If this is what your idea of caring looks like, I'd rather we go back to the way we were before.
At least it felt more honest than this.
no subject
[ Yet????? ]
Fine, I will be more honest.
If you prefer to be coddled you should look elsewhere.
But do not expect me to hold my tongue.
no subject
You really haven't changed at all, if you're still blaming me for what you started.
( clinging to that petty rivalry with her teeth might be the most normalcy she's seen, since the werewolves' hunt ended — in some sick sense, she supposes she should thank zoya for that, even as she digs between alina's ribs. an unrepentant hound, looking for whatever bone of truth alina has buried. to sniff out new ways to judge her as lesser, not nearly good enough, knowing zoya's penchant for sinking her teeth into old scars. )
I'm not your problem.
We're not even real allies, here. I'm not the Sun Summoner anymore. You have no need for me.
You just like poking your finger into wounds. You always have.
no subject
I suppose that's why I sit on the throne now.
no subject
Don't fool yourself, Nazyalensky. I was Nikolai's first choice.
He never bothered to ever mention you. And do you know why? Because I'll always be his first choice.
Enjoy the taste of my leftovers. You usually do.