[There's a very sudden, very prominent beat of her heart, and a wind that comes with it, as if he'd just stirred Garuda herself with those words, whether it's out of anger or out of that same deeply-rooted desire that Benedikta felt—feels—she doesn't know. But it's cold and on it rides the scent of sea salt, reminding her of home. Reminding her of the nights they would spend on that balcony, looking out and admiring the way the ocean would sparkle under the moon together.
She shivers against it, oddly enough, and she curls up into herself a little tighter.]
Liar.
[It's muttered under her breath, though it lacks any truth or bite to it. If anyone is the liar here, it's her. A liar because her heart cannot fathom that it could ever be the truth. That, even after everything, he could not find it in himself to keep loving her and only her.
no subject
She shivers against it, oddly enough, and she curls up into herself a little tighter.]
Liar.
[It's muttered under her breath, though it lacks any truth or bite to it. If anyone is the liar here, it's her. A liar because her heart cannot fathom that it could ever be the truth. That, even after everything, he could not find it in himself to keep loving her and only her.
It was a stupid question.]