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la soledad es un tipo de veneno;
IP: 2.26.209.117
Posted on December 30, 2017 at 04:44:59 PM by sperantia

Sperantia
la soledad es un tipo de veneno

Sperantia noticed the muscle clench in the Warbird’s jaw and had to look away, her narrowed blue eyes focusing on the thin water channel running down the banister. Croe shouldn’t be angry about this, at least not in any personal way – that was Sperantia’s job. The only thing Croe should be upset about was the potential loss of her meal ticket. She wasn’t allowed to care.

Paper rustled. Sperantia glanced back to see her unfold the map, and took a step forward to study it over her shoulder, internally cursing herself for not thinking to grab one too. She honed in on the buildings, trying to commit them to memory. Mallos would have been able to look at the map once and recreate it later with annoying accuracy, although it wouldn’t have done him any practical good. He’d’ve been lost after taking two steps. Her gut clenched at the thought.

“Yes, although I’ll have to be very close.” She narrowed her eyes again, staring at the map. Now didn’t seem like the moment to explain to Croe that the originals’ fairy-familiar connection was significantly weaker than ordinary fairies’, assuming she didn’t already know. “We should split up. Cover more ground faster.” She touched her paw to the map lightly and focused her borrowed magic, creating an exact replica with subsequently folded itself in mid-air. “Use telepathy to communicate everywhere we’ve searched, anything which looks unusual. Start with the places mortals are less likely to go. Gwythr would’ve chosen somewhere people couldn’t just stumble into.”

Her copy of the map vanished into the ether. Sperantia leapt lightly off the wall.

“I’ll stay here in Generalife and look around the courtyards and buildings. You head towards the Medina.”

She paused only long enough to receive a brief acknowledgement before striding off towards the cypress tree court.

Time dwindled away. When she found nothing out of place in the Generalife, Sperantia sent Croe a psychic all clear and proceeded towards the palaces. Eyes sharpened by desperation missed nothing but also found nothing. Every time Croe connected with her mind to check off another location, Sperantia jumped at the psychic contact, hope flaring in her chest. Each time, her hope was dampened. Outside of the buildings, Sperantia prowled up and down the streets, tripping vendors and tourists, trying to cover as much ground as possible. If she was directly underneath him, she should be able to feel him.

She felt nothing. Nothing but despair.

Their fruitless searches conjoined outside the palacio de nazaires some twenty minutes before their allocated timeslot. Those twenty minutes were agony. Sperantia spent ten of them pacing up and down, feeling a flurry of irritation every time she turned and saw Croe, still and hatefully calm. She had no right to be calm. What if she was wrong? What if he wasn’t here at all?

What if… Sperantia tried unsuccessfully to swallow down the nagging thought which had been plaguing her for two days. What if we search forever and can’t find him?

Sperantia would search forever. Croe would wither and die, at some point. Not soon enough.

Immediately, the black cat stopped in her pacing, feeling the acrid taste of bile in her mouth. Had she really just thought that? Had that death wish just come from her?

Yes, and it’s justified because she threatened to kill Mallos.

Her stomach twisted. Another voice in her head – the same one which had recoiled in horror from the savagery of her own thoughts – countered that forcefully with arguments she could no longer hide from. She’d shoved them back every day since she’d run away, ignoring or dismissing them while they built up insistently. Her head felt like it was full of steam, the pressure cracking her joints. Before she could stop them, the nagging doubts took over her mouth and the logic she’d been side-lining for months tumbled out.

“I don’t hate you because of what you said. I don’t give a shit about what you said.” The words toppled into each other in their haste to exit. “You don’t think he gets a hundred death threats a day, some of them legitimate? You think I could possibly be his familiar and not be thoroughly forgiving of immoral misdemeanours? I don’t care that you were a pirate. I don’t care how many people you’ve threatened or hurt or killed, or who within that number.”

Her heart thumped painfully in her heaving chest, threatening to burst free. Blood rushed through her ears. Honesty was bitter; it tasted like acid in her mouth.

“You get thrown into this world as a familiar with a single purpose but no one really knows what that is.” She muttered, resuming pacing. “I spent years working on our relationship, trying to understand him, trying to know him. You strolled in and outstripped me within a month.” She paused her pacing again, taking a deep breath before exhaling. It felt like the steam inside had been released, relieving the internal pressure. “And I didn’t even know until he found you in that cell. He kept his entire relationship with you from me.” She lay down on the cobblestones, folding her ears back, unable to look at the woman. “He was falling in love and he didn’t think enough of me to tell me.”

Her voice had begun in a hiss but ended with a sigh. Sperantia lowered her head onto the ground, curling her tail over her paw.

solitude is a kind of poison



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