Dec 27 2015, 12:40 AM
Vicktor was dead. These were the words that had flooded Eve's head for seemingly years on end. It was her fault, of course. She couldn't do anything, but she could have stopped it. She could have stopped everything, if she had just paid any attention. If she had just listened. If she had watched. If she had been of any use, Viktor wouldn't be dead and Czernobog wouldn't be injured. Since returning from Polaris, she hadn't talked to Dragon, or Ghanyarah, or even Tal'at. She just wanted to be alone. And alone she was. She was sat in her nest, the glowing rocks and tiny shards of destroyed chrysali seemed colder than usual; burning her legs as they lay tucked in among them. Parts of her wanted to cry. Other parts wanted to scream. She just sat. She hadn't eaten in days. She hadn't slept in even longer. It was pointless. Maybe she was sick or something. She didn't care much - she was useless and her existence was pointless. Why was she still around, anyway? ... Oh. Right. Of course. She had children to take care of - or at least, one of them. Slowly, she looked down. She couldn't see him. He was probably hungry, kids were hungry a lot. She was hungry as a kid. She wished she was a kid again. Vicktor was alive when she was a kid. |