Event Horizon
Feb. 24th, 2024 09:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seleniasTitle: Event Horizon
Fandom: Tales of Zestiria/Berseria
Characters/pairing: Edna + Eizen
Rating: gen
Word Count: 200
Notes: Written for the winter round of![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
seasonsofdrabbles.
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Edna spins the flower for whom she was named spitefully between two fingers.
“What, don’t like it?” Eizen asks. The sound of leather and stone slide against itself as his memory settles beside her. Edna knows if she concentrates the illusion will break.
“It’s fine,” she answers. “Suitable for a girl. You got that part right, at least. You’re still learning how to treat one, though.”
His grumble is carried by the wind and stirs her hair. “I know I should write more,” he says, patient. “And come see you more often. But you know why I can’t.”
Edna closes her eyes and grips her hand into a fist. The leather gloves that were his are now hers, the boots that carried him away have already taken her away from this place too.
And the name he gave her will not rot with any amount of time, unless the malevolence he solemnly carried takes her too. She can’t allow it.
Up on the bluffs, Eizen’s mournful roar shatters the silence.
Edna collects her umbrella and marches forward. Behind her, Sorey’s seraphim disturb the quiet. She scrubs her eyes mutely.
It’s a long walk to the top of the Spirit Crest.
Fandom: Tales of Zestiria/Berseria
Characters/pairing: Edna + Eizen
Rating: gen
Word Count: 200
Notes: Written for the winter round of
seasonsofdrabbles.-
Edna spins the flower for whom she was named spitefully between two fingers.
“What, don’t like it?” Eizen asks. The sound of leather and stone slide against itself as his memory settles beside her. Edna knows if she concentrates the illusion will break.
“It’s fine,” she answers. “Suitable for a girl. You got that part right, at least. You’re still learning how to treat one, though.”
His grumble is carried by the wind and stirs her hair. “I know I should write more,” he says, patient. “And come see you more often. But you know why I can’t.”
Edna closes her eyes and grips her hand into a fist. The leather gloves that were his are now hers, the boots that carried him away have already taken her away from this place too.
And the name he gave her will not rot with any amount of time, unless the malevolence he solemnly carried takes her too. She can’t allow it.
Up on the bluffs, Eizen’s mournful roar shatters the silence.
Edna collects her umbrella and marches forward. Behind her, Sorey’s seraphim disturb the quiet. She scrubs her eyes mutely.
It’s a long walk to the top of the Spirit Crest.
