┏━━━━•❃°•°•°❃•━━━━┓ “I felt for the tormented whirlwinds, damned for their cardinal sins, committed when they let their passions rule their reason.” - Dante Aligieri. Drip. Drip. Drip. The sounds of the soft rainfall pattering against cobbled roads was all the Saivale could force herself to hear. How many hours had it been? How many days had it been? She supposed it didn’t matter. Drip. Drip. Drip. A rhythmic thing, drilling at the forefront of her mind as the Kathar’s thoughts went rapid. How could she have been so foolish? Her emotions had guided what was left of her mind far too many times and now she sat in the reapings of her actions; Hungry, cold, and lonely all while sitting under some stone bridge as she watched the storm rage on. Perhaps a more reasonable person would have taken this as a wake-up call, a sign that the Necromancer truly had no care for her well-being, but Rhosell was not reasonable. The only thoughts that bounced about in her pale head were ones of regret and longing. She should have known better. Should have, she guessed. Her place wasn’t one in which she could express her opinion, her thoughts. How could she have been so stupid to spit in the face of the one who had given her everything? She had spoken out of place one too many times, and now it felt as if it was the last time she could speak at all. Who was she to go to? The judgment of the Halflings was still fresh in her mind, and she had been spited one too many times by the Shenath whose words still echoed within. Would she crawl back to the Slizzar? Tuck her tail between her legs and shove her morals down her throat all for the affection of a woman who would just as soon see her kind dead as she would to help her? It wasn’t right. This situation wasn’t right. Her vitreous gaze poured out as the rain continued to fall, the persistent dripping cut off by a drawn out growl from the Saivale’s stomach. Her white hands trembled as she clutched herself. Fuck. How long had it been since she had eaten? Certainly days had passed before she sat here since she managed to have some food. Another thing to add to the growing list of things she had taken for granted. Was she too proud to beg? Maybe she wasn’t proud enough. She didn’t know. She didn’t really care, either. The only thing she cared about was letting the clock tick by, every second counted as she waited for the week to be over. She made these actions. She piloted herself to this bridge and for what? The satisfaction of seeing the pirate berated? A warm bed beside the familiar serpent? The truth had hammered in her mind for far too long. She made these decisions and so she wrought this punishment. Repentance was a privilege considering the alternative. Forgiveness was not a right. It had to be earned, and the woman was eager to earn it. The punishment was harsh, but not without its justification. She deserved it. She would continue to deserve it until she found a way to keep that constantly whining mouth of her’s shut. An idiot, right? That’s the nicest thing she had been called by them, and she could see why. A whirlwind of doubts had taken Rhosell’s thoughts hostage, but now there was only an empty pit of mockery and self-hatred. She would be better. She had to be better. Every mistake had been like a pick brought down on the thin ice she walked upon with the woman. Nonetheless, her redemption would come soon, in only a week. A single week. Surely she could go seven days hungry and cold if it meant she came back a better person for her Lord. Though, she knew these thoughts would have to wait. The rumbling of the Kathar’s stomach had only grown more fierce, and each passing second made it difficult to keep her weary lids from closing, aided by the natural lullaby the rain drops sang. Her fingers gave a final tremble as she pulled her coat over herself, lulling into a deep sleep, the only place she could avoid her hunger.
