#anyways Emmaline does dream now and perhaps that is a curse

[monabee-draws]

The First Enchanter looks sad, her sagging face drooping further at the corners of her mouth, like she'll melt under the weight of all the sympathy in her. That wretched sympathy. 'What a waste' she's probably thinking, as you snarl and thrash and knock a glass statuette off her of desk in your struggle, 'All that potential, all that curiosity.' The templar straightens your face, pulling back on your hair hard enough that your bottom eyelids wrench upwards, setting off tears. You are faced forward to the blow. 'What a waste,' as she cocks the iron, dipped in the scalding cool font of lyrium.

There is always half a moment where you think the templar loosens his hold. Where you see your arm come up in a wild thwip that knocks the iron from her hands. Where you duck and it misses, searing a leg behind you. Where you run and run and run and-

The brand sears a pretty sun into your flesh.

rook qotd: what is your rook's worst nightmare?