acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (Default)
Mercymorn the First ([personal profile] acidjail) wrote in [community profile] deercountry 2022-10-23 06:55 pm (UTC)

2B is always a still, steady presence. Their follower watch her go in deepened worry, some of them grasping at each other's elbows, others paling and shaken. There have been other encounters, bad ones, and terrible injuries, even losses - but it's one thing for it to happen to the likes of them, and another for it to happen to this beloved and revered Sleeper.

Mercymorn watches her go with a hard jaw, her teeth grinding hideously like a rock tumbler, an endless rolling wear. When she stalks off back to the outdoors, no one attempts to follow her. Amity stands in the middle of the main room longer than anyone else, forlorn, looking after both women uncertain of who to follow.

It is nearly half an hour before Mercymorn comes back inside, filthy with blood sweat and the last gritty remnants of the rain. No one rises to their feet as she crosses the room and enters the hallway, their eyes deferentially averted to their tasks, even those they invented on the spot as excuse.

(The heart still beats. It pulses in her ears, in the joints of her fingers.)

"I assume you've made your preparations," she says, without preamble, as soon as she comes across the android. Her gaze sweeps over her with all the clinicalness she lacked when she reached inside of her and erected a cathedral.

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