Rosela felt strands of hair rip from her skull as he threw her down, a choked cry echoing out into the suddenly emptying space. The world was quickly slipping out of her control, and she hated that this beast had such clear, physical control over her. The expected support of the stall behind her had vanished, and she stumbled awkwardly, scraping three of her palms on the sandy cobblestones at their feet. Even as she touched them, the cobblestones themselves seemed to be fading away, the cracks filling in under her fingers, and the whole of the ground became as flat and indistinct as dark tile.
She knew these tiles with a sudden horror, and heard the twang of the bow and the slick crunch with a sickening turn in her stomach. As though the image were being pushed in front of her, she saw his face – his face, her husband’s – look back at her in that single moment where she did it and she felt the torch spasm in her hand as hit him-
It wasn’t her fault - she did what she had to –
The light of righteousness had abandoned her, and she couldn’t remember her why’s and justifications in the face of the smell…
It started to change though, still terrible and familiar, but wrong. There were vines everywhere, even through the fire and the terrible smell of…something burning. Her arms were wrapped around her chest and face, tears streaming as she trembled on the featureless ground. She saw more violence through her fingers, awful and with strangers' faces, but the gushing blood sang a song her terror recognized.
”Stop, stop…”
She felt the cries in her throat and realized she was sobbing. Her sweet principles had vanished and she only wanted it all to go away. It was his fault, the barbarian’s, she knew it. She’d been clean and right before him. It wasn’t the things that she’d done, it was him. He was the one tormenting her with these things.
”Stop!”
Razkar was also speaking, but she couldn’t follow his words. Barbarians, lies, speeches… The words bounced off her jagged consciousness, each chipping a little more away.
”Stop it! Shut up!”
When his words escalated into a scream, it set every nerve on edge, and her nails dug into the side of her face.
”SHUT UP, YOU FILTH!”
The words ripped from her throat as she tried to overtake him, in volume if nothing else. The dream around them reached a final breaking point, and consciousness returned in an abrupt sheath of sweat and tangled sheets.
She knew these tiles with a sudden horror, and heard the twang of the bow and the slick crunch with a sickening turn in her stomach. As though the image were being pushed in front of her, she saw his face – his face, her husband’s – look back at her in that single moment where she did it and she felt the torch spasm in her hand as hit him-
It wasn’t her fault - she did what she had to –
The light of righteousness had abandoned her, and she couldn’t remember her why’s and justifications in the face of the smell…
It started to change though, still terrible and familiar, but wrong. There were vines everywhere, even through the fire and the terrible smell of…something burning. Her arms were wrapped around her chest and face, tears streaming as she trembled on the featureless ground. She saw more violence through her fingers, awful and with strangers' faces, but the gushing blood sang a song her terror recognized.
”Stop, stop…”
She felt the cries in her throat and realized she was sobbing. Her sweet principles had vanished and she only wanted it all to go away. It was his fault, the barbarian’s, she knew it. She’d been clean and right before him. It wasn’t the things that she’d done, it was him. He was the one tormenting her with these things.
”Stop!”
Razkar was also speaking, but she couldn’t follow his words. Barbarians, lies, speeches… The words bounced off her jagged consciousness, each chipping a little more away.
”Stop it! Shut up!”
When his words escalated into a scream, it set every nerve on edge, and her nails dug into the side of her face.
”SHUT UP, YOU FILTH!”
The words ripped from her throat as she tried to overtake him, in volume if nothing else. The dream around them reached a final breaking point, and consciousness returned in an abrupt sheath of sweat and tangled sheets.
