#you put her anyplace you want in the plot. I’ll happily follow. I haven’t finished act 3 yet but I’m getting there.i am AT the netherbrain

[clawsextended]

you’ve never been able to explain it.

it pulses under your skin in the dark. it’s terrible, fucking consuming. it’s devouring. it eats you but by bit until nothing is left but the poisoned marrow and blackened bones in your body. you wish you could bleach them, flush the panic from you, make you more than you are. there’s a burning in you that you don’t have words for.

halsin speaks of an oakfather, silvanus; shadowheart speaks of shar; lae’zel of vlaakith — gale had once known mystra; astarion’s flesh is all but sacrificed to cazador.

and no one lays claim to you. no one lays claim to you. unlovable creature molded of a world that has hated you since conception — you want no one and no one wants you.

you don’t want a god to love you. they’re empty, and you think weakness is bowing your head to another. it tastes bloody on your tongue when you imagine it. you do you best to do better, but is it really your best? do you really do better?

brown eyes mournfully catch the druid’s and you dip your chin nervously. the fire crackles at both your feet. the dark feels oppressive.

“i understand you hating me. i hate me, too.”

it feels awful, choking to give life to. to say. your body is ravaged with too many battles and a refusal to heal, to rest. you throw yourself in the path of every monster you encounter, feel no more vindicated but somehow comforted when a fist breaks against your jaw, when singing steel bites into your skin. it feels like the only way you can conceive the world around you. you explain all things by hurting, and you don’t want to do that anymore. your mouth goes dry.

you’ve talked to god. but the problem isn’t that god doesn’t hear you — they don’t want to listen.

@arakhorre