Baby Steps and Morning Breath

Raisa says nothing to her. Virgil doesn?t know what she expects, doesn?t know what she wants. In the calm of her mind, before she had been presented with the presence of the ashen woman, she would have thought she might see indifference. She would have thought that she might be angry, but she never would have wanted this. This confusion, this pain when Raisa listens and simply walks away. Fight for me, for once in your fucking life she wants to yell. Will somebody please stop making her fight for everything, and for once fight for her? Her bones are weary; she is Atlas, and there is nobody to crutch the weight of the world upon.

There is part of her that yearns to chase, to shout, to rage. And yet she does not, at least not until she sees it. Dark fur and vicious jaws, anger and hunger all directed towards the ebon woman. Virgil?s mind shuts down; she does only what she would do for all that she loved. Legs break into a sprint, seeking to knock Raisa aside swiftly, hoping to knock the woman down.
The reason will become swiftly apparent.
She stands between the beast and the ebon woman, hackles rising and lips pulling upwards into a snarl. Fiery golden gaze locks with soulless brown, her posture staying stiff and rigid. She bounces forward at random intervals, biting at the creature?s limbs and seeking to push it away. For now it seems determined, its gaze locking upon her. Good the weak (or so she labels it) part of her thinks. It is focused on me and not her.