"What’s wrong, Pyrite?. Did sothing happen to you?". I ask to Danaika mockingly, not sitting besides her, if not standing in front of her, placing my left hand on her head, ruffling her tallic golden hair, slowly pushing her further down.
I don’t need to hear the incredulous gasp of Cadrissa, nor observe the raising eyebrow of Ines to know the implication of what i’m doing.
For a woman of Loutharn, regardless of her social status, touching her hair is a severe offense. In fact, it’s even more scandalous than groping her improperly in public.
Danaika’s gaze faintly shifts, observing for a mont before deviating her stare away.
Absolute silence perates the previously bustling lobby. Which is concerning, because Danaika doesn’t utter a single comnt back, whether sarcastic, arrogant, or pompous, not even a snarky one scape from her plump dark brown lips. On the contrary, she doesn’t even have the urge, or courage, to clench her fists in frustration, impotence and helplessness.
So i change my touch, tenderly brushing the border of her ear, trailing the periter of her cheekbone until the base, firmly lifting her chin, forcing her to et my gaze.
"You have no right to feel bad about anything Wig Seller. I’m the one who lost his Fiancée, rember?".
"You knew?...". Murmurs Danaika with grudge and distress, obviously too imrsed in her own despair to realize i was the one asking.
"Did you plan this with «Them»?. To get the remains of our lost belongings?!. Do you enjoy this?!. Knowing the Nydrikoff, the Sunderzen, and the Vecturion are involved in this!...".
The Pyrite almost is a few strands away from reaching her breaking point, but not because of her lost, if not for how it happened.
{Like . She was played too. It’s this a pantomi to cause stir and gossip among the population?}.
{In Azthea. It was quite normal to divert public attention with scandals, at least before the terrorists shattered the moon. After the initial calamity. Misinformation was highly abhorred. A nation was Nuked, and erased from the map, for spreading rumors. Which served as a catalyst to foster transparency and unrestricted cooperation throughout Azthea}.
I breath profoundly, followed by a quick short inhalation with a dry exhalation. It’s scientifically proven to be the most efficient natural thod for relaxing, focusing, and avoiding entering a furious state.
Basically, a biological hack that’s useful when you rember it.
Because excessive rage tends to temporarily lower IQ, which affects mory and decision-making.
It is not without reason that lawyers adore to use this fact to reduce the sentence of those who commit a light cri, or even a serious one that was driven by emotions. Cris of Passion or Spite, are the most common in Azthea.
Comprehensible, as no one would be stupid enough to go against the governnts that kill any possible major danger to the world.
Truth be told, nobody in Azthea wants to go through what occur in the terrorist attack.
{This is complicated. What if it’s not just a political charade, if not a whole maniuveer of the House’s League, in which we’ve simply been moved like pawns in a chess ga where i don’t even know where the board is placed?...}.
"Honestly, Pyrite. No. I don’t know. And even more frankly. I don’t give a damn. I better focus on what truly matters to mw. Like my stay here in Takctoor. What about you, «Danaika»?...".
She is absentminded for a mont.
Listening our own na instead of a label tends to function like a wake up call for most people.
"I don’t know... , My brother abandoned , like all the support we had from the Nydrikoff House. Even Natvasha vanished. Which affects my weekly stipend, reduced to 25 credits because i’m a Pure Heiress, despite not having a House anymore. And the help from entering in Takctoor are only 50 Credits".
"So that ans you are 25 credits short for a private room. Going to the Barracks for free is always an option. You could co with , Pyrite. Or rather, with us".
My mischievous smile is imdiate, even as i gesture widely to the four comrades behind .
Danaika’s body tenses up. The intention i have with her is clear, and the overall ssage more than obvious.
"I’ll be fine on my own". She says softly, almost breathless, not believing her own words, wanting to move away from my touch but i hold her chin firmly, which only puts her in the verge of tears, realizing how absurdly dependant and impotent she has truly been through her entire life.
ntally devastated, Danaika’s personality is a sliver away from being irreversibly wrecked, and it’s precisely in these kind of monts, in which anyone you can hurt others the most, or propel them to transcend beyond the veil they obliviously self imposed on them.
I had been struggling with myself since the mont i arrived to the Nothingness place before Loutharn, barely mimicking my personality. The Relativistic Portal, when i was fooling around with Esdrana is one of the closest monts to the real .
As i accepted that i’m not only drived by the joy of rekindle a woman’s passion, like i did slightly with Cresseida. I’m actually fancied by shaping and reshaping a woman, more so if it’s from her agonizing desolation or dire despair, which gives an extra rush of adrenaline if i’m the one who brought them to said state.
This intoxicating feeling of Conquest, Order and Control is sothing that i’ll never be able to overco, and it always leads and my paramours to an unparalleled ecstasy.
"«Fine on your own», Pyrite?". I ask with patronizing sternness. "Why?. When you could be «Flourishing», with your newfound liberty...".
My words sink in her, reigniting glimpses of her conviction with the faint gleam of her red eyes.
"You, Danaika, and others are conscious about my origin it’s from an Exodus. But my world is fine, and i was dragged here, to Loutharn, against my will. So despite my victory. I lost everything. I can drown in the past, whining and complaining, knowing i’m unable to return back. Or i can build a new future. Hopefully, one that obliterates whatever the bastard who brought into this world, it’s trying to achieve. So i will ask you, «What do you say?»".
"We’re not in Loutharn anymore".
{What?!}.
"She is right". Giggles Cadrissa with a slight smile. "We are in the counterpart of Loutharn, «Nrahtuol»"...
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