Difference between revisions of "Logs:Worst Fear"

The inferno was waiting to swallow her whole when she reached the Sands.

Azaylia let it.

I'm not like her yes I am I can't be you hit him monster wrong sent away he needs but you can't just like her how could you she's right he's right

The guilt, the horror, the fear. It was a blistering hot storm that raged on, the heat of the sands almost paling in comparison to the hellfire that scorched her inside out.

Just like her just like Ti

« You are Azaylia. »

Hraedhyth. She was the eye. While crimson soaked her gaze and drooling fangs were bared over eggs and rider both, her drums were steady. Her plains, eerily calm. Her devotion unwavering.

Not I'm not I'm a monster monster monster

« No. »

Gonna send me away I can't hit it hurts it hurt him broken I can't just like

« You. Are. Azaylia. » Each word was punctuated by a painful strike. And then, pressure. Predator's jaws squeezed tight, making it hard to breathe, leaving Azaylia unable to do anything but take in that savage growl, « You are not anyone else. »

What do I do how do I fix it how could I

« You will reap what you sow. It is the way of things. None are above this. » Hraedhyth's snarl lessened just as she began to ease her mental grip.

Azaylia knew that. She accepted it, no matter how much it hurt to do so.

« You will not suffer for the crimes of another. »

Just like Tiria

« No. »

Even perched on Hraedhyth's forelimb, Azaylia could only stand the heat of the Sands for so long. By the time she came down from her panic, the weyrwoman was well past the threshold. Drenched in sweat and draped across the gold's thick muscle, she finally managed to slip into an uncomfortable numbness.

What do I do?

« Protect the Weyr. »

How do I fix this?

« You must. »

But how?

The warrior queen offered no solution, only unwavering confidence in the steady rhythm of her mind, « You are Azaylia. »

Before too long, Hraedhyth's concern had her leaving the scorching grains behind. The gold's smothering presence didn't lessen, no matter how much distance was put between them as Azaylia numbly aimed for her weyr. It was the gold's influence that forced her into a sudden sleep once in bed, thoughts circling until the very last moment:

I am not Tiriana.