May All The Demons of Hell Protect You

As the warmth of him left her cheek, so did the comfort it brought her. Cierzo cast an anxious glance at her dear Es, “But I…” She began, a touch of pain entering her sweet tones. -I am worth less than the skin I lie on. She knew he did not like that sort of talk, or any kind of self hatred she had to whisper. So she kept it to herself, making the focal point praise of her brother instead. “You are meant… for so much more than this.” She should have never begged him to take her from their home. She should have never forced him to make that decision. Not for her.

She could hardly stand herself in this moment, gently turning away from him- seated so that she could look out at the swamp, away from him, and fight her tears. “I ruined everything.” Her shaky, remorseful voice came as clearly as she could manage; begging the gods that he would not recognize the emotion in it. Maybe if she fell into the mud that his massive form had so easily trekked through, with her useless self on his back, she would drown in the muck and nothing would stop Mistral from those great things she believed he was meant for. Cierzo wondered if that would be best, but she hardly had the strength to throw herself in regardless. So what was she to do with this horrible, guilty feeling she carried? With the worthlessness she felt? And to constantly look at him and see nothing but perfection, so unattainable? The best she could do was cling to his side- and even that was a burden.

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