( sarcasm that could wither a garden, same as the dreams alina can see wilting, in real time, like falling petals in the spaces between alia's fingers. he'll love me, he'll love me not. i'll be happy, i'll be happy not. still, maybe that's all there is. maybe that's the best she can hope for. true love, dead on the stem. the whole of their hearts taken by ravka, dedicated to duty. already, mutual respect is more than any saint could ask for. better than losing herself to men who tolerate her best when she's stripped of power. better than becoming dust in the countryside with mal, with no shortage of guilt to spare, no limit to the revulsion she feels at herself.
better than being dead in the ground, only ever death's bride.
she eyes the heirloom ring tucked away on her nightstand, the rich emerald of lush forests. wistful, suddenly, for all that she's staved off homesickness. wishing nikolai had stayed, wishing her worlds might have converged as easily as a shore to a tide, if he had been here to know alia, know paul, and not — the rocky cliff face she feels like she's facing, sometimes, trying to reconcile the two worlds she has tried so desperately to belong to. )
You would have liked him. He had plenty of stories about his time on the seas. Exaggerated, knowing Nikolai's need to hear himself blather at all times. But he's a good man, and he'll make for a good king. Saints know all of Ravka adores him.
no subject
You're quite the romantic.
( sarcasm that could wither a garden, same as the dreams alina can see wilting, in real time, like falling petals in the spaces between alia's fingers. he'll love me, he'll love me not. i'll be happy, i'll be happy not. still, maybe that's all there is. maybe that's the best she can hope for. true love, dead on the stem. the whole of their hearts taken by ravka, dedicated to duty. already, mutual respect is more than any saint could ask for. better than losing herself to men who tolerate her best when she's stripped of power. better than becoming dust in the countryside with mal, with no shortage of guilt to spare, no limit to the revulsion she feels at herself.
better than being dead in the ground, only ever death's bride.
she eyes the heirloom ring tucked away on her nightstand, the rich emerald of lush forests. wistful, suddenly, for all that she's staved off homesickness. wishing nikolai had stayed, wishing her worlds might have converged as easily as a shore to a tide, if he had been here to know alia, know paul, and not — the rocky cliff face she feels like she's facing, sometimes, trying to reconcile the two worlds she has tried so desperately to belong to. )
You would have liked him. He had plenty of stories about his time on the seas.
Exaggerated, knowing Nikolai's need to hear himself blather at all times.
But he's a good man, and he'll make for a good king. Saints know all of Ravka adores him.