I'm Sorry That Your Life Turned Out This Way

His anger comes to her, violent and fierce. He is there, promising to overtake her gods. But oh, it is so much more than the gods. It is the thousand years of legacy, the bloodline of warlords and warrior queens which sit upon her wavering shoulders. She has failed them all; her body has been violated by a simple fool, her heart manipulated and stomped upon by an evil wretch, and yet here she is crying to the man who had first broken her heart, the girlhood crush who had left. "I was raped. And forced to bare his children," she tells him. He doesn't know this much. He will now, however. "I thought I had found my soulmate. We were raising our children together as two parents. And she...she left without saying goodbye. She left her blood children, the ones who saw me as their second mother, with someone else," she says. She shakes with rage, and she doesn't know what to do with it. She wants to kill something, to commit some violent sin to eradicate her body of all these feelings. Her snout lifts upwards, looking at Syrinx, horrendous and marred. There is a spark in her eyes, a fierce sort of intensity. "I am a failure," she reiterates. She can do better than weep over these things; she can do better than throw fits and tantrums. She is strong, she is a beast, and she ought to stop caging herself up.