[ Her smile pulls slowly, dry and sharp and vicious all in the same. ]
We have a tale, of the Goddess Sita. Who, when her husband, Lord Shiva, was insulted to her face by her own family, in rage, set herself to flames. Burning with her divine fire from the inside with the dishonour she felt.
[ She might have to play their games, but she played them very, very differently, and no more or less than to keep what she took. Hers is blood-worn etchings. She knows what she is, and she has never made herself out to be otherwise.
More than she means to say or should, her depth of feeling for him, but it was true and for that she would not offer apology. If they wanted to play in snide words about Duv, they would regret it, she would set fire to herself just to watch them burn. ]
Anything less, and I would not be worthy of my position.
no subject
We have a tale, of the Goddess Sita. Who, when her husband, Lord Shiva, was insulted to her face by her own family, in rage, set herself to flames. Burning with her divine fire from the inside with the dishonour she felt.
[ She might have to play their games, but she played them very, very differently, and no more or less than to keep what she took. Hers is blood-worn etchings. She knows what she is, and she has never made herself out to be otherwise.
More than she means to say or should, her depth of feeling for him, but it was true and for that she would not offer apology. If they wanted to play in snide words about Duv, they would regret it, she would set fire to herself just to watch them burn. ]
Anything less, and I would not be worthy of my position.