there hasn’t been a ROUGHER feeling she’s had. yes, there was soft love and easy passion, confusing attraction up until a few years ago. eye rolling anger, lip biting guilt, hair-pulling stress. there have been plenty of feelings, but never FEAR. she’s never been afraid, not enough to close her eyes, grit her teeth. not until now.
the bottle feels hot in her pale hands. she doesn’t like drinking, but something has driven her over the brink, enough where she needs the depressant. her breathing comes fast and hard as the air begins to feel a little thin. one empty bottle on the floor, the one in her hand getting dangerously close to its end. it’s just marriage, she tells herself. just marriage. and you’re marrying hiccup. you’re marrying hiccup. ❝ you can do this. you can do this. ❞
her body shakes, trembling with a heady dose of LIQUEUR. it washes down with a burning sensation in her throat. fingers loosen their grip, bottle dropping harshly. a CRASH as the ceramic shatters against the hut floor, the small amount of drink spreading across the grains of wood, sinking into the planks, leaving dark lines. ❝ i can’t do this, i can’t do this. ❞
she falls to the ground, knees hitting the shards and slicing her skin. her mumbling continues as an attempt to clean the mess begins, giving her worn fingers and palms the same treatment as her knees. too engrossed in fighting off her fear, astrid doesn’t hear the warning signal from stormfly that an intruder is present, doesn’t hear the door open.
