❛in which they grow to love and learn❜
Briar Desilva hated. She hated the Cursebreaker and the High Lord of Spring. She hated her mind and she hated her body. She hated the memories that danced beyond her reach and the past that was and always has b...
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"i am the great illusion of myself." -atticus
❀❀❀
BRIAR ONCE AGAIN STOOD at the bottom of the stairs of the Cursebreaker's house, gripping the bannister so hard her hand was beginning to pale. She glared daggers at the fools in the kitchen.
Today it was occupied by the dazzling blonde, a female with a blunt bob, and Elain. All three of them were quietly eating, muttering odd comments every few seconds and glancing towards the dark of the stairwell where she stood, glaring.
And she wasn't mad at Elain or the other two females - it was just that this repetitive déjà vu was absolutely maddening. It made her blood boil, made her bones throb, made her feel like her brain was swelling inside of her skull and would soon burst out of her eye sockets.
She had been here before. Had stood here, staring at those friends and feeling nauseous and hesitant and horribly judged. She had stood here every morning for the past week, apparently, and she couldn't even remember who was in the kitchen each time. She only remembered this faint fog of semblance to the present, as if she could see the skeleton of her memories but not the flesh. Something was missing, always missing.
A glance down the hall had her lip curling, a growl rising in her throat. Just looking towards that door made her stomach twist and flip as if in freefall. A horrible, dangerous freefall in which the only possible landing was pain. Terrible, agonizing pain as the High Lord ripped his talons through the plaque in her mind.
Every day.
And she could only remember the pain and the nerves and the fright.
"Keep staring and your eyes will dry out, girl," the blunt-haired female spoke, her voice dull and silver eyes piercing as her gaze landed on Briar.
Briar only cast a furtive glance down the hall, towards the closed door and the male that lurked behind it.
"Would you like some food before your training session? Or water, perhaps?" Elain asked, and her use of the word session grated at Briar's nerves. A session of torture, more like.
The blonde said as much. "Yes, feel free to sit - it sounds brutal in there." She patted the chair beside her.
Elain sent her another encouraging smile. And compared to the door down the hall, the foreboding darkness and the violet eyes that waited in it, Elain and the females no longer seemed so irritating. They actually seemed rather lovely. Seemed warm and fun and a better alternative than going directly to the High Lord for their session.
