Who helped with the ritual? Well, Keyleth, obviously. She tore Orthax from his soul. He saw that. And Pike. Who else would be skilled enough to bring him back, really now. It’s so clear to everyone who was responsible. And then there’s Vex, who has nothing to offer but her wilted little heart, the one that Saundor wanted so terribly. And what good was that to give Percy? He already had that.
The main thing is, is that Percy is alive. What does it matter if her confession wasn’t heard by him? It didn’t matter, not really, not to anyone aside from Vex. She’s selfish, like he is. She’s private, like he is. She’s stubborn, and he is, too, given he’s alive now. Vex is glad that he’s alive, and he that he is safe, and that he is happy. Vex couldn’t hope for more than that.
Vex is even glad he was spared her pathetic display, because what good did that do him?
im trying not to miss you, but the pain is a dull ache behind my ears. everything i hold to my heart is wilting with the night. i tell myself chocolate milk will stop reminding me of you when i learn to love a new flavor. im stuck just bellow the surface of the community pool, and i can hear the sun pouring into my eyes. i still taste late night laughter and under-cooked spaghetti in the back of my throat. you always looked better with a smile on your face. im trying to remember that when you look at me with nothing but frowns. i can hear you singing sometimes. its a familiar tune that, even now, i still cant make out the words.
You tell me sweet nothings to see me smile
And that’s a shame because I was ready to feel you
I wanted to know more about the emptied darkness that you refuse to let go of
I wanted to understand the salty rivers of your past
I wanted to embrace them with the softness of my wilted heart
I wanted to free you from these insecure thoughts
You told me sweet nothings to see me smile
And that’s a shame because I loved you.
You were my momentary everything who slipped through my fingers like a droplet which couldn’t help but fall and slowly lose itself upon escaping my skin– the perks you say, of getting an overture in my castle is a chance to think twice before coming back again It pricked the rose out of me– of how i turned the fire beating loudly in your lips into a madness running in cold I remember how it used to be, I still do…
Yet the sadder tale is, if you are to ask me again, I would still say “no”.
The coffee in the office
looks gray this morning.
The sun is so bright
and the earth is so hot
that I can’t see without looking like
I might slit your throat.
Avoid eye contact.
Avoid anything that makes you shake
like a nervous wreck.
In every letter I write to you,
you are more important
than you are in my heart;
You are more important
in my mouth
and in my hands
and in my mind
than you want to be.
I understand that love
is a tired word
with many definitions
made up of more tired words
and too much sentiment.
I use words like “rot”
to describe the way
you take up too much space in my bed
and still, none in my heart.
You wilt and grow tired
like a flower
or a carcass.