her brother is standing in her bedroom. it is not the brother that haunted her memory, tall and smug, always the correct answer on his lips. streaks of silver through brown hair, mirroring her own. expression twisting into a scream, fading into the snowy trees as hoofbeats echoed behind her. this brother is similar: the same glasses, the same stance, but now the image is shattered. all white hair and a distance in his eyes, hollowed on impact. she could convince herself that this is a ghost of her brother but it would bring her no comfort. not when truth mingles with the lie.
she sits on the edge of her bed, eyes locked on the back of percy’s head while he gazes out on whitestone. the linen had been dug up from a back closet to replace the old gifted by sylas and delilah. she had also donned a new shirt and skirt, borrowed from vex’ahlia when the sight of blood on her old clothes made her stomach churn. very little of her goods remained solely her own, coming from or being wrenched away by the briarwoods. despite two de rolos now inhabiting whitestone castle again, it still reeked of the couple who carved away at it. cassandra imagined it would for many moons still.
when the silence starts to become too tense, she clears her throat. folding her hands together, too long sleeves falling over her knuckles. ❝ i never could have dreamt of this happening. ❞ her voice is paper thin with an attempt at being light, shot down by the lack of reaction. cassandra sighs and glances away from him, not as though he’s bothering to look at her. ❝ not... not this, exactly, but me. ruling. ❞
@catharsy / percival de rolo.