⚖ - SCALES - how well they balance their good and bad impulses
Mary stared quietly ahead as the people passed by her. People was an odd thing for her to think as she watched them. Orcs. Trolls. Tauren. Goblins.
Forsaken.
They were technically her people now as she felt an empty thou within that she could only chalk up to being a ghost pain. She had no heartbeat. She didn't need to breath or feel or grow old. She was just there. Mary Wincott, immortal and paused.
Forever.
Her hands shook as she looked to the heavy gloves she wore now. She couldn't bear to see those hands anymore. Mary could barely look at herself when she had to as she wore the veil over her jaw and mouth.
Death had taken everything. Life had given nothing back. And her fire had only made it worse.
She couldn't feel in her bones or flesh, but she knew it was there pressing at her spirit. It was the one thing she would never be free of. That fire they had shared for so many years. Now it was only in her.
"Louise why did you do this?" She felt her vibrating voice whisper into the dusty evening of Ogrimmar as the heat built behind her eyes. Why didn't she just let her die? Why can't she die?
Burn it.
Burn it all.
Her fists clutched tight as she tried to remember what it was to breath and control it. None of the old coping methods worked. How to take deep breaths? How do you close your eyes? How can she calm down?
It would take time, effort, and will. Two of which she was in short supply of. For now, just let it out.
Burn.
There were screams of fire and a bell ringing as s cart nearby had burst into flames. A shaman was weaving his large hands to calm the flames that danced, it fought them every step of the way.
She fought them.
@safrona-shadowsun