#but AWWWW BRIAR YOU SWEETIE ;; W ;;

[flordivina]

Briar isnt too sure, but she believes her mom to be sad! She cant have that. The blood golem scuttles up to LeBlanc and lays across her lap, she shall do this until her mother is no longer sad.

A Maelstroms of emotions would be veiled by pure halcyon feature; questioning the past was futile & useless— & yet inevitable; for what was time to the Immortal Mind? It had been more than a millennia already; & it would still ache in her soul as if it would had been yesterday. Scars & burns all across her body below the phantoms of perfection for eyes that desired the lies, & among the gracious deceived audience: she was included, first row, every morning at the Mirror. In the smiles she portrayed; the mirage of perfection & confidence; faux peacefulness instead of the pain viciously gnawing at her vertebrae, of the thorns & petals wanting to circle every bone & break skin in bloody endearment.

Every torture a reminder; every ache a punishment she felt was deserved too…

It didn’t matter if her Coven had chosen to die by her hand; instead of her former Master’s cruelty. It didn’t matter it was willingly spoken from their own lips, begged to take their memories with their High Priestess’ sunstone & make them hers, asking her to siphon their magic in the process.

“Grow; Breath ; Live… See the Sunlight again: for us all” Flowers weren’t able to thrive in Darkness, after all; They die & the only the Darkness grows…

It didn’t matter her natural magic & fey arcane power were now dancing with all what belonged to those she loved. It unbalanced everything; & the boiling of Corruption in her blood & flesh an eternal reminder: She couldn’t heal anybody; not even herself… she would always bear the scars of her own sins; even if they weren’t blooming upon her skin; they would stay in the depths of her heart. No Kindness was brought with Time for her; all would always stay there; in a memory loop.

Another sip of the Ionian wine she finally had chosen to have delivered by her favored staff; as she sat by the open window & allowing the night wind to grace it. She didn’t even want to use the chalices or goblets or fine glasses anymore; just gulp at it. In her privacy; she could be miserable she deducted; even the act itself was one of wretchedness: Getting tipsy at the start was one thing; but eventually her own Magic would start absorbing it all & the effect had long being nullified; it was as if once again her adoptive mother was scolding her for drinking with the druids, telling her she shan’t & only making her drink things sweetened with honey; with the excuse of making the Bees blissful…

Maybe that had been why Mead had felt so joyful & comforting; besides the obvious alcoholic bliss;

———it felt like going home.

She would only have one last chance to take another sip from her misery when she felt the endearing Blood Golem coming closer to her. A genuinely tired smile; unable to reach her bright gaze & did little to betray her emotions, no able to veil the sadness within would be all that could be exchanged, as before any word of greeting could be exchanged, Briar would come up her lap & lay across it.

Surprise would be quick to replace the melancholy, before reaching out the window to her pixies to take the bottle of wine away. Emilia tried to ignore the way they’ve sighed in absolute relief at finally disappearing it; & so focus all her attention on her child.

“Briar; my sweet little cub; my precious batty~” Her voice was a bit hoarse; a little hint of her emotions indeed; yet never lacking sheer affection as her fingers would run across the locks of hair of her Daughter. Internally appreciating how the moonlight could reflect a little on them; just as Vladimir’s hair, causing even greater fondness on her heart; albeit of nostalgia——

—At the end; maybe she was fooling herself: & time had given them a chance; Even when her body had been left barren of possibilities; even when she couldn’t heal & even with all she had sacrificed. Life had found a way to be kind; in the shape of a failed weapon: an endearing —even if murderous— creature; another one with the right to Grow, Breath… Live…

However, she would tilt her head ever so slightly; wondering & a bit oblivious in the middle of her own sulking of emotions, about the reasoning of the situation. & so, Emilia would gently nuzzle against Briar’s head: once, twice, thrice… like a wolf mother nuzzling her cub in a comforting gesture.

“Now, now… aren’t you so silent tonight, my dear? You are normally far more talkative; & I can’t help but be fascinated by all you are able to talk about…” Her fingers would carefully play with her hair, causing little flowers to be entwining among tiny braids.

“Is something the matter? Do you feel odd or bad? May Mom do something for you to quell the bother?”