Raise the Wreck of Doubt

As Aresenn’s words were processed, she released the hold on his flesh. Brows furrowing, it was apparent that she was operating at half her usual speed of thought — but all the same she was present.

“Fuck.” Came her first truly cognizant remark, muttered as her eyes flashed with a dull sense of shame. One soul here, she’d have rather died than let them help her. The other, she never wished to have seen her at her lowest. Was this fucking karma?

Absinth wanted to leave. It didn’t matter that Aurelia had suggested they leave, she wasn’t even thinking about Sephiran or Rhazien. Probably an effect of the trauma to her head, logic was taking a back seat in order of importance at the moment. Without a word, Absinth moved to stand, teeth gritted as a wince distorted her features. She was able to shakily right herself, but her next obstacle was Aresenn himself. “Let me up.” She said quietly, not willing to make an attempt at eye contact while she was still in such a state. But could she make it anywhere on her own? She didn’t know. She didn’t know how she got here, she could recall shattered pieces of memory but the most prominent two persisted at the forefront of her mind. The warning from that Saxe bastard, and the firm reassurances from Aresenn himself.


wormwood