VALORIA WILDEROSE
"You don’t hate ?"
"I get that your family were assholes, but I’m not one of them—neither are Elodie or Calliope. You don’t need to project your abandonnt issues on us. We won’t ignore you over sothing as petty as having a thing with a psychopath. We’re... friends." She says the last word begrudgingly, throwing her indifferent gaze away from .
Still, it’s the first ti she’s admitted it to out loud, and my heart fills up instantly with a little bit of tears brimming in them.
It’s the nicest thing anyone has said in the longest ti.
"Thank you," I mutter under my breath, sobbing quietly.
She lets out a breath of defeat and exhaustion, patting my shoulder like she’d rather be doing anything else, but she does it regardless.
"In the end I’m the one doing the consoling," she complains, and I can’t help but chuckle, feeling the warmth in every seemingly cold and detached statent she makes.
She lets sob as much as she can allow for a few more minutes before her hand drops, folding below her chest.
"Okay, that’s enough crying for one month."
I nod slowly, sniffling.
"Can I sit?"
"Sure, you’re already here," she quips sarcastically, pointing to one of the pillows on the floor.
I scoot over, settling down on the comfy seats and crossing my legs, smiling with the lightness in my chest. Then she pulls close again, handing a mug of what looks like warm tea, brewing probably before I walked in.
An extra portion from the batch she was making for herself. Without waiting for a thank you, she sits right in front of , sipping and sighing from relief.
I follow suit, taking a sip of rich minty flavors with just the right amount of honey, opening up every one of my twisted and clogged chakra points with one sip.
"This is amazing!" I gasp, gulping as much as I can without burning my tongue.
I never knew Yara made tea this good.
I drink it all, emptying my cup in less than a minute, feeling refreshed and dropping it down on the coaster in front of . Yara does the sa even though hers is still half full.
Her face turns serious as she clears her throat, ready to speak.
"For the longest ti, Azrael terrorized my tribe. Unlike the parts of the world the rest of you are from, him conquering us isn’t much of history—it was a few years ago, over twenty. The effects of the war are still fresh in our lands. Still, it’s what is to be expected of war; there is to be a victor one way or another. It’s a cycle that our tribe respects, but I held bitterness in my heart when I was sent here to be one of his dolls for entertainnt, to fulfill so sick beef he has with the goddess."
"I was especially bitter before I made friends because I hated to accept what it ant that we had lost and I am now a prisoner. I hated it more when I began to enjoy the fruits of being one of his prisoners, like I had finally sold my soul to the devil, and it disgusted . I tried to pretend like a part of hadn’t found happiness in the life I had found here, so I buried myself more into that bitterness, trying to deny the truth that looked right at ."
"What truth?"
"Don’t get wrong—Azrael is a dangerous man. He’s terrifying and he kills without rcy, but he’s not as terrible as I wanted him to be. He kills, but it’s only ever been prisoners that deserved it. He’s a lecher, but he’s only slept with the won who lusted after him and wanted it. The rest of us have remained untouched, fed, and protected as long as we don’t act out against each other and him. He does nothing. I ca here expecting a beast that I can latch all my hatred and bla on, but the only monster I’ve found stares at every morning."
Her secret confession has at a loss for words and silent, reminiscing on her realization of a truth she had faced coming in.
And in many ways I have co face to face with parts of it I cannot deny.
Just like her, I expected an old ugly wrinkled beast, the epito of resentnt and hatred, the enemy of everything good. I expected pure evil, but then I t a man.
Tortured by his past and a curse that has plagued him for centuries, with twisted desires and psychotic tendencies—but still a man. Broken and wounded in ways beyond what my mind can comprehend and what he can even understand.
I wasn’t expecting a person.
Just like her, I wanted sothing to bla for the way our world had turned out, for the oppression I faced all my life, for what an ass my family was to .
I chose him based on the rumors to satisfy that need to not be held accountable for how my life had beco. He beca this beast I needed to hate and slay to be free from every pain I’ve felt.
But what if that’s never been the truth? What if all of this was never about Azrael in the first place?
"I do not have any disagreents with you if you choose to embrace him," Yara continues.
Her absurd statent shocks out of my deep thoughts before I can hit so big epiphany hidden behind my questions.
I recoil away, coughing and clearing my throat from an imaginary obstruction.
"For the last ti, we have nothing going on. I don’t like him. I just..." I pause, caught in a tongue tie once more.
My mind unable to co up with the words that can describe it.
Enemies? Friends in the most unfamiliar place?
No, it’s nothing like that yet exactly it and more. I can’t run away from figuring it out forever. At so point I really will need to answer the question.
My shoulders slump in defeat.
"It’s complicated," I confess out loud to myself for the first ti, feeling all those sickening feelings I’ve made it a point to escape and hide away from surfacing and attacking all at once.
Yara nods silently, refilling my cup without interruptions. A silent nudge to pour it out.
I’m skeptical, but I do.
"I think he’s annoying and insufferable. I want to kill him, saw him in half, sew his lips shut, but then... I want him to hear my ideas and tell if they’re insane or not. I want to sit with him and argue all day long. I want to... k-k-kiss h-him." I struggle with the last confession.
Realizing I actually said it out loud. I admitted to wanting to kiss Azrael like a whore.
I cover my face with both hands, fully embarrassed, wondering what went wrong in my life that made wind up in this situation.
Yara hums to herself with a nod, processing the information like a computer before she looks at again with an answer.
"It could be libido."
"Libido?"
"Sexual desire," she points out casually.
I spit the tea I’ve managed to sip between words over my left shoulder before I can choke on it, staring back at her wide-eyed.
"W-What?! N-N-No... I-I don’t... de-definitely not!"
"I know you’re a virgin, so you can’t easily tell when you’re just pent up. You reek of it."
"You’re just making that up."
"I can tell. Just as I can tell Calliope and Elodie have been with n."
"And you?"
She shrugs, taking a sip of her tea.
"I prefer won. It’s less of a hassle with them, and I’ve had my fair share of them—more than you can count on one hand."
I have so many questions, but none standing out enough for to want to ask. Rather, I shake them all off, considering her deduction despite the insanity behind it.
Though she seems confident enough to convince that it’s all there is to it, and now with a simple solution to my problem staring back at .
"So you’re saying all this frustration and discomfort is because... I just need to get laid?"
"Possibly."
"And if I sleep with him, all my problems will be solved once and for all?"
"Once or twice should do the trick. All the passionate energy you’re feeling should be gone."
"How do I—" I clear my throat, still in disbelief that I’m actually going along with this insane proposition. "How do I... do it? Do I just walk up to him and say, ’Hey, will you sleep with ?’"
She smirks all of a sudden as an idea filters into her mind.
"Leave it to ."
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