Page 180 of The Gods Veiling
We should’ve told her about the Abandon. We should’ve found a way to bring it up without going into details about our history.
Then, we would’ve been lying to her. We weren’t trying to do that either. So avoiding it altogether became the solution.
I don’t have an answer or mediation for this.
I don’t know which way would’ve worked out.
How do you tell someone new, that you’re powerfully tied to for the rest of your life, you were born and created to be monsters? Then you chose a different fate for yourself that started a realmly descent.
That’s not something you just blurt out over coffee in the moonlight.
Fuck, maybe it is.
The uncertainty in the air mixed with how long it’s taking for Thayla to return has my nerves restless and my power sitting on my skin.
We figured Seismet would bring her straight here, but it’s been long enough now that each of us has taken turns removing our armor and getting a shower.
The Oblirian’s blood has no harmful side effects or anything like that, but the memories they bring forth are unwanted. We’ve done this countless times in the twenty years we’ve been at the Godsdawn and that’s caused us to fall into coping routines.
Return home silently, take showers, spend however long we need in our rooms alone, then come out like nothing ever happened.
We can’t do that tonight and the longer we wait, spread out between the living room and kitchen, the further we descend into our darker thoughts.
Riven’s sitting on the couch, bouncing his knee. The vibrations travel through the floor and into the path I’m walking behind him.
Amick’s moving from bookshelf to bookshelf, cataloging what he already has perfectly cataloged.
Creed’s busy at work in the kitchen. The scent of coffee fills the air and the constant clanging of mugs is basically the only noise in the whole house.
Tonight was an absolute shit show that has us all on our metaphorical edge and there’s no telling what’s going to tip us over.
“How much longer—”
Riven stops asking his question when the subtle vibration of someone entering the house skirts across our senses. We all know who it is, and we each fall still as we stare at the entranceway, waiting for her to emerge.
The sight of her makes my throat close.
I don’t know what picture I had painted in my mind, but black droplets doting her face and highlighting her gorgeous rose gold hair weren’t it. I don’t know why I put it in my head she wouldn’t look like she just fought as hard as any of us did when she walked in.
It makes me feel sick.
The fact she’s even been touched by the vile remnants of those monsters makes my stomach turn uncomfortably.
I wish she never had to go there.
I wish we never had to return there.
“Well,” she says, clearing her voice as she glances at each of us. “I’m very underdressed for our party.”
There’s a tense beat of silence before a surprised snort escapes me. I force a small smile to my face. “I’m sorry we didn’t make the dress code clear.”
She smiles softly at me and the red rims around her eyes fuck me all the way up. I know her well enough by now to know she holds her tears behind a fierce fortress.
I’m sure there have been many instances where she’s wanted to let tears fall, whether they were from anger, frustration, or maybe even sadness. She never has, though.
To know this strong, sassy-ass goddess cried alone over this makes my fucking chest feel like it’s ripping apart.
“I guess I’ll go get changed and be right back.”
