・❥・ She thought maybe she was okay with being wicked. That she was so angry, so desperately, bitterly livid. She thought perhaps there were pieces of this world that deserved her wrath. Her wickedness. Some souls who deserved to be snuffed out.
・❥・...
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╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗
・❥・When the door crept warily open, Cirsei was met with the sight of what must've been her father. She barely recognized him, for she had never seen him in such a state of disrepair. He looked gaunt, disheveled. His long hair was unbound and unkempt and it looked unwashed. His dark blue eyes sunk tiredly into his skull, the skin underneath darkened and sallow. Cirsei thought they had the appearance of bruises.
When he looked at her, at first, she saw it: confusion. He didn't recognize her either. And then it sparked in his eyes as they widened and he exclaimed her name.
"Cirsei? Cirsei! My sweet girl, is it really you?" He reached out and grabbed her upper arms, holding her there and taking her in as if to ensure what he was seeing was corporeal and not just a mirage.
"It's me, father," she stated sagely, succumbing to the shock of their reunion.
He then pulled her into him, crushing her with the force of a hug like she'd never known from him. He held her there against him and stroked and kissed her hair, whispering and musing his disbelief and relief.
She did not expect this reception from him. She expected rage, untethered fury, exasperation at her audacity to leave him and run away from him. His main source of income. Or she expected cold indifference. Part of her had wondered all this time if he'd care at all. She feared she might return one day to find that no one had batted an eye at her absence. That her father had continued on as if nothing happened. As if she'd never existed at all. But she knew her father valued capital above all else. She knew he'd notice based on that alone.
But she didn't expect joy. She didn't anticipate relief or affection. Not this. It stirred within her a conflicting elation. A girlish joy at receiving even a crumb of paternal love - the love she'd been starved of her entire life. She wanted to melt into him, hug him back and cry with him and express her unending apologies, her remorse for worrying him, for running from him, for scaring him. The catharsis was almost overwhelming, almost enough to snuff out her better judgment and drive out all of the horror he'd caused her. All of the pain. She wanted to fawn and fuss and placate him.
But she didn't. She couldn't. She couldn't waver now. One measly hug and a moment of tenderness from him would never undo everything he'd done before. No, no, that was unforgivable. She couldn't lose sight of that. This man embracing her in this moment did not represent who he was. It was nothing but a bit of acting. Manipulation.
He finally pulled away from her and it felt like he took her breath with him, like her lungs were folding under the weight of her ribcage and all she wanted was to feel it again.
He pulled her by the arms into his office, closing the door behind him. She knew Cassian and Azriel were likely coming out from around the corner now, posting themselves right outside the room.
