The world tilts and sways - or is it her legs, trembling from the exhaustion of nearly finding homage in a hostile, watery grave? Shivers crawl across her skin, her too-thin, waterlogged coat not nearly sufficient for keeping out the harsh chill of the biting winter wind. Another cough heaves from her lungs, wet and painful.
Is this the price she must pay to make him see?
Too much.
Her bleary eyes search as she presses through the agonizing cold and the muscle spasms. Her mind goes foggy and stars dance in her vision. She wants so badly to rest, to curl into the icey grass and settle into sleep so deep that the gods themselves couldn’t wake her. So enamored by the desire to give in to temptation and let herself be taken by the reaper, she does not hear the stallion’s approach until he is upon her, speaking words that she can’t quite understand. They turn to mush in her brain, a string of gibberish that she vaguely recognizes as friendly.
”I have -” Her words are cut short by yet another cough, eyes rolling back as she rides the wave of pain, her raw throat burning from the sting of the saltwater climbing up and out of her with each violent hack. When it finally ends, her eyes blink open slowly - warily - and swivel to the stallion, desperate and pleading.
”I have...to...find him.” Cold, she is so cold… ”My brother...is...gone.”
Her voice comes out scratchy and weak, and though she knows she is speaking it feels as if the words come from someone else’s mouth. Like listening to them through a wall of water, distorted and unfamiliar to her own ears. Panic seizes her abruptly as the truth of them settles into her bones, opening a fissure in her soul that widens and gapes like a canyon.
Did Muerte truly hate her so fiercely, that he would risk destroying the both of them to just be rid of her once and for all?
She is powerless to stop the wail of despair that rips from inside of her, carving through the relative quiet of the otherwise peaceful commons. Her knees shudder and fail and the ground rushes to meet her, the pain of collision a welcome distraction from the shattering of her heart.
Vaguely, she recalls that she is not alone. Too weak to stand again so soon, she thrusts her nose toward the stranger, burrowing her face against his leg and relishing in the warmth she finds there. Though he is unfamiliar to her - an intruder bearing witness to her most vulnerable of moments - in this unexpected juncture in time he is the anchor that keeps her from drifting too far into the darkest expanse of despair. Her eyes flutter shut and she breathes deeply against his skin until the racing of her heart slows and steadies, a strange calm slipping over her.
Slowly, the hysteria begins to fade and she blinks up at the stranger, embarrassment taking up the mantle where the gloom had previously ruled.
”I..I’m sorry,” she sputters, unsure of what else to say to erase the last few mortifying minutes from his memory.