BluEndings
The One Called Blu
HIFUMI BAE
SCENE:
[Legacy Lost]
TIME:
Post-Arc 3 | June 13th, 2022
LOCATION:
Zhànzhēng, East District | Silverlit Grounds
PARTICIPANTS:
Hifumi, Deirest
LEGACY LOST
Was he… upset?
There was a ball of rolled up emotion welling up at his core, but not for the tea set. It went without saying its value could not be consolidated with material currency. The memories woven in each subtle crack were too great. No. This feeling was much more selfish. Sorrow was too shallow an emotion compared to the petty sea that extended as result.
This woman—this broken woman's words were a slight to his acuity. Who was she to refute his insight with whatever garbled nonsense she scammed as prudent? She was in his home. Not as family, friend, or guest, but intruder. What she had to say didn't matter. She was feral. Wild. Inept.
He grasped his head.
The quiet between the now and the frigid air blowing in, would never be long enough for the pale-haired dragon's thoughts to break through these headaches. The pulsing against his skull was like a strained beat orchestrated by a jostled nest of insects—trapped and hungry with nothing to feed on but deliberation.
One. Two. Three.
The breathing technique did not fail him.
“You should go.” Words spoken, slick with shame. “I'll prepare a bath and a set of clothes.
"Then I ask you leave.”
A request. A demand. A plea.
Perhaps not intended for the uninvited guest.
There was a ball of rolled up emotion welling up at his core, but not for the tea set. It went without saying its value could not be consolidated with material currency. The memories woven in each subtle crack were too great. No. This feeling was much more selfish. Sorrow was too shallow an emotion compared to the petty sea that extended as result.
This woman—this broken woman's words were a slight to his acuity. Who was she to refute his insight with whatever garbled nonsense she scammed as prudent? She was in his home. Not as family, friend, or guest, but intruder. What she had to say didn't matter. She was feral. Wild. Inept.
He grasped his head.
The quiet between the now and the frigid air blowing in, would never be long enough for the pale-haired dragon's thoughts to break through these headaches. The pulsing against his skull was like a strained beat orchestrated by a jostled nest of insects—trapped and hungry with nothing to feed on but deliberation.
One. Two. Three.
The breathing technique did not fail him.
“You should go.” Words spoken, slick with shame. “I'll prepare a bath and a set of clothes.
"Then I ask you leave.”
A request. A demand. A plea.
Perhaps not intended for the uninvited guest.
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