respired: might as well let it die (behind my eyes is rage alone)
ᴋᴏʟᴛɪʀᴀ ·sᴜɴsʜɪɴᴇ· ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜᴡᴇᴀᴠᴇʀ ([personal profile] respired) wrote in [community profile] epidemiology 2016-02-05 09:35 pm (UTC)

[Truth is, she can't trust him. He'd say that even if this were a normal conversation. He pushes people away because he's well aware of what he is. What he's capable of. What he's already done.

Alice's struggle to breathe satisfies something cold and terrible inside of him. When he was alive, Koltira lead a peaceful life: eyes like summer morning, days of banquets and lilies and a forest where it was always spring. He cultivated virtue, and practiced it even during the worst parts of the Scourge invasion.

But the runeblades that murdered him left more than a scar across his stomach. The ritual that brought him back did not make him as he was once was. Chains lingered in him now, chains of hard steel and black ice. When Koltira looks at Alice--as when he looks at anyone--he sees double.

First, a girl. Afraid, angry; in need of comfort and compassion.

Second, a girl. Afraid, angry; fit to be devoured.

He slams his fist against the stone wall, as though heaping pain on pain will keep his mind clear. Already his reason threatens to slip beyond his reach.]


Let me pass. Chase me to the city limit if you must, but I cannot go with you barring the way.

[Unholy energy flares around his boots. If she will not move, he will charge.]

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