[ love you week 3 memshare, anyways i waste no time, they're getting flung into a memory (CW: DEATH, VIVISECTION AND ALL THAT ENTAILS)
this one is particularly rough, and artemy is left at the end of it looking down at his own hands, lips pressed into a thin line of contemplation, as though he can see the blood still on his hands, as if he can feel the weight of the earth in his palms.
in any case. that's the kind of "witch" he is. he looks pretty awful about having someone see that again! man! ]
Death never does hold much permanence for people around here, does it? And yet the effects so rarely abate. What's the point? she wonders, watching him rise and fall, watching the knife cut into the woman's body. His old friend's body.
Why is it that miracles demand their price with blood? Always with too much blood.
When the vision is over she reaches for his hand at once. Takes it softly in her own and looks into his eyes.]
[ it's like the least bueno you can be. also dump one on me whenever if you'd like.
there is always blood, a price in flesh, a price in life. she takes his hand and he looks at her with the sort of eyes that say he doesn't deserve this kind of touch. she's too kind, she's always too kind. ]
... No. Some of it is in the grass itself, in the twyre - herbs - in the bulls, in the beat of the Town's living heart.
But what is a haruspex save an oracle that divines using organ meat.
[ he looks downwards at their hands together. ]
She helped me find what I was looking for, but I never wanted it to be at the cost of her life...
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w3, monday
this one is particularly rough, and artemy is left at the end of it looking down at his own hands, lips pressed into a thin line of contemplation, as though he can see the blood still on his hands, as if he can feel the weight of the earth in his palms.
in any case. that's the kind of "witch" he is. he looks pretty awful about having someone see that again! man! ]
no subject
Death never does hold much permanence for people around here, does it? And yet the effects so rarely abate. What's the point? she wonders, watching him rise and fall, watching the knife cut into the woman's body. His old friend's body.
Why is it that miracles demand their price with blood? Always with too much blood.
When the vision is over she reaches for his hand at once. Takes it softly in her own and looks into his eyes.]
Is it always like this? The magic you have to do?
no subject
there is always blood, a price in flesh, a price in life. she takes his hand and he looks at her with the sort of eyes that say he doesn't deserve this kind of touch. she's too kind, she's always too kind. ]
... No. Some of it is in the grass itself, in the twyre - herbs - in the bulls, in the beat of the Town's living heart.
But what is a haruspex save an oracle that divines using organ meat.
[ he looks downwards at their hands together. ]
She helped me find what I was looking for, but I never wanted it to be at the cost of her life...
no subject
This is a lot of strange words I don't quite know, but I think I can catch the gist.
[Her thumb rubs over his knuckles, soothing in the smallest measures. The best she can offer, platitudes and a warm hand to hold.]
Of course not. How could you expect that? Why would you ever think that way about a friend?
I'm sorry. I wish things hadn't been that way for you. Or her. Nobody should have to hurt that much.
[speaking of hurting. Sorta.]