Concerning Love, and it's horrors.

OOC: Okay, so I'm really tired and I never really intended to write anything. I just sorta started and didn't stop myself. It's rambly, mindless and not proof-read. Blah. Enjoy, if you think it's worth it.

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Though the mist seemed perpetual in Zi'Tah, if Psylight looked hard enough in one direction, she could see further through it than she'd have expected to. It wasn't particularly handy, being able to see a few extra yards into the distance contributed little since the haze started well beyond the point of suprise, but it was interesting to note. She dismissed the brief excursion from the book in front of her and continued reading.

"I look at you, and I can only see pain for me." Lara softly pleaded, grasping Donal's neckerchief, caressing his strong neck and looking to him with searching eyes. "I want you so badly, but I can't have you."
Donal searched back with a solemn gaze into her eyes. He knew what this affair was doing to the poor girl's already-breaking heart. How could he leave her like this?

Psylight sat alone on the moss-covered trunk of a fallen tree, legs crossed at the knee, reclining backwards against a soft, grassy bank, looking glamorous amongst the still mist, posed inadvertantly as though trying to impress. With her long, blonde hair not tied in it's usual characteristic pony-tail, it took a second glance to tell that it was even her. Her Scythe, an ornate darksteel shaft and cruelly arcing blade, rested forlornly against the decaying wood beside her, strangely not the focus of her attention, a paperback novel entwined in her fingertips instead. With cloudy blue eyes, she stared off into the paling horizon, past the leaf-strewn tracks, the monolithic crystal formations, and the colossal trunks of Zi'Tah famous forest giants.

She felt at peace here. The mist was cool, but weighed against the humid, thick atmosphere, the temperature never dipped below comfort level, but kept things hazy and luke-warm, it made her sleepy and numb to her own awareness. The lack of any kind of wind made the entire place seem heavy. A curious, and yet apt, place to rest in her own company.

She felt like such an idiot.

More than that, she felt as though she'd been taken advantage of on all fronts.

"I don't want to leave you, Lara. I..."

Firstly, she'd let Reinbach get under her skin. There was no excuse for it, and nothing that could be said to simplify that any more than it was. She'd let herself care about him, despite knowing how tenuous a relationship it would work out to be. He was untrustworthy, dishonest, stupid, and devoid of all common sense. But he'd been young, attractive, and those negative traits he so openly displayed offered her with the chance to potentially find someone who wouldn't talk down to her, or judge her harshly where others would have. Simply admitting to the initial rendezvous had landed her in hot water with people she'd come to respect. Muirnin, the least of her concerns, was understandably upset.

Psylight blew a strand of hair from in front of her eyes when she thought of Muirnin. It had become a bad habit, a poker tell; When she thought about people who irritated her, hair always found a way to get in her eyes.

The breakdown of any potential comeradery between herself and Muirnin didn't come as any significant loss. Muirnin had always seemed to despise her. Constantly spitting out insults whenever Psylight added someting to conversation, eyeing her up accross the room as though watching out for sudden attacks, despite Psylight never giving even the remotest indication that she had such a notion. If anything, this whole debacle only served to indicate just how worthless the little bitch's opinions were. Psylight's thoughts danced around the notion of the two wretches crawling back to each other in comfort, saving the rest of the world from having to deal with the aftermath of them once again playing their cards in the dating scene. They should get married and have kids that could grow up to be as conniving, brainless and infantile as they were.

Donal's soft, yet powerful arms pulled her closer into an embrace. He watched a tear roll down her cheek as she looked longingly up at him. She loved him so dearly it was clear to see from just a glance. Ignoring the sense of right and wrong he felt, he knew he couldn't deny the woman he loved at least a gesture of how he felt. Closing his deep, brown eyes, he lowered his face to her's, touching her lips to his own. Lara needed no coaxing, the electricity thunderbolted down her entire body, and she melted into his arms, kissing him passionately.

Psylight arches her shoulders back, dropping her head back to face skyward, eyes drifting around the foliage far into the sky.

It seemed the only thing people seemed willing to involve Psylight in was any act that would somehow restrain her from acting as she pleased. As much as she was unwilling to admit it, Ayvaen was mostly at fault for this. He'd suggest ways to help her with her problems. He'd sweep her up in promises, excitedly discussing the potential outcomes, the hazards, the possibilities. But there was always a cost, a favour he wanted in return, and every time he said he'd be only to glad to help her, Psylight felt him tighten another chain around her wrists.

And she let him. Every time. Why?

Exhaling deeply, closing her eyes for just a moment, she was still. She knew why. Because even though he was unattainable, even though he never, ever seemed interested, and even though she knew she could do nothing to ever enter his thick head and mean something to him... she was in love with him. Completely and miserably.

She opened her eyes and stuck out her tongue, as though just thinking about it made the words she'd spoken months ago sour her tastebuds again. She shivvered, hearing her own thoughts, and leaned her head forward again, banishing any futile notions that might pop into her head. "Don't be an idiot. Don't be an idiot."

Sabriel had called her a whore, countless times. Not that it was hurtful, far from it. Shallow words from an unstable mind had less punch than a feather, but it did make her think about herself. There was a time, after she regained the personality her parents had so meticulously concealed, that she'd gone a little crazy with her social life. She'd be the first to admit that being called a "whore" wasn't entirely without it's veiled truth. But she'd calmed down from that. She'd had her fun, and she'd broken as many walls as she'd had to to allow herself to look in the mirror without seeing a sickly-sweet imbecile princess staring back at her. Besides, back then she'd never told anyone, but she felt like noone was worth her, since Jind died.

Jind had been her first love, her on-again-off-again boyfriend when she was 13. He had been so akwardly gorgeous. Full of brag and bluff one moment, then meek and frightened the next. She remained stand-offish their entire friendship. Breaking curfew to sneak into his house to make out in secret, only to regard him with distaste and generally play the Ice Maiden to him before the eyes of the rest of the world. Perhaps it had been that she cared about him more than she admitted to herself, but when she awoke from her seven-year dream to find that he had been removed from her by her parents, and the weakling Princess she'd been turned into followed blindly her parents' requests to stop seeing him... She hated herself so much she just didn't care what she turned into.

That had changed, of course. She'd found herself in the end. She knew who she was and what she wanted. She didn't hate herself anymore, but who she was reviled those around her. Even those who had once called her 'friend', and even 'family'.

She dropped the book to her thigh, lolling her head to the side to gaze at her Scythe. It was the perfect friend. It only existed to see her prosper. It made her stronger, it never held her back. It promoted itself as at her every whim. It was useless on it's own, and longed to simply be held by her. She could put her faith in it's power, and in turn, the Scythe could stay strong relying on her will to point them where they needed to go. It was only a pity, that this friend was an inanimate object that could no more provide companionship than it could carry on the second end of a conversation.

Perhaps that was for the best, though. Who knew what senses of humour Scythes might have...?

Exhaling long and deep, she sat still for some time, looking up at nothing in particular. The mist in the distance slowly crept around the undergrowth. She could hear distant, mournful cries of the birds, and felt her spirit be sent to sleep by the lulling air.

She raised the novel back up, and licking the end of her finger, flipped the page.