[ eventually, she feels...nothing. cold and empty and her heart feels like a marble in a templar's palm. it doesn't hurt, but what her thirty-ninth birthday should have been like plays in her head over and over. a different scene, a different cut, a different place, a different world, a different everything.
numb, limp, she speaks against her brother's chest. claudia could just as easily have this conversation on the ground. that would be more fitting, she thinks. ]
The Borgias kill him.
[ her throat is tight, but her voice is quiet. no more tears, only drying salt on her cheeks and air stinging the red of her eyes. ]
no subject
numb, limp, she speaks against her brother's chest. claudia could just as easily have this conversation on the ground. that would be more fitting, she thinks. ]
The Borgias kill him.
[ her throat is tight, but her voice is quiet. no more tears, only drying salt on her cheeks and air stinging the red of her eyes. ]