Raise the Wreck of Doubt

In her state of waking, but mostly still unconscious, Absinth was beginning to recognize some things. The smell of smoke, herbal in nature… the quiet sounds of movement… her own pain coming in crashing waves. Perhaps it had been better when she was completely passed out, as her mouth opened to release a series of huffed out expletives. Her limbs scrabbled at the ground, nails digging into the ground as she tried to — well, ground herself to something other than her suffering. A constant pattern of mutterings and breathless whines filled the silence of the cave, and yet Absinth still did not open her eyes. They were shut tightly, her ears pinned back. Her body began to shiver and tremble, the blood loss coming to fruition as she was experiencing anemia.

“Been through worse. Been through worse. I’m alive. I’m alive. That’s all that matters. That’s all. It gets better. It does. It’ll pass. I’ll pass. It always does. I will survive.“

Right? Right?

wormwood