Breathing Fire - In The Dragon's Den
Posted: 19 Nov 2017, 05:38
Upon her rebirth, Merry's eyes had not taken on the same shape they had after her turning, that dragon slit pupil that had marked her as other, marked her as a Dragomir. Yet even without the eyes she knew that the Dragons, for better or worse, were the closest thing she had to family, the closest thing she had ever had other than her beloved Perry, Noelle and Mortll. It was what had brought her back here, back to haunt the temple, to hover on the fringes of the world she'd known and no longer knew how she fit into. How HE would fit into. Days had been spent in recluse, hidden away by Kendal Baxter and his employees, some trying to assist her in catching up in the world whereas others merely watched with a certain wariness and occasionally, sadness. Their friend was gone, dead, and in his place, all they got was a shell of a person poorly animating his body. Depressing, really. It was taking time to adjust to it, to regain a sense of self and it was on the third day that she realised it was impossible because she'd never really HAD a sense of self. Too much of her identity had been wrapped up in her past, or in how she looked, in how others perceived her and how she tried to please them.
She'd been trying for so long to be what others wanted, so she'd never really become anything.
She felt like nothing.
The realisation had left her wallowing for a day until Kendal had stormed into the space she was staying in, muttering something along the lines of being unable to deal with his face looking like THAT. "That" she assumed was pouting, sulking. He'd been quiet towards her for the most part, tense or agitated, asking few questions and keeping them brief. He'd tried to lock her up out of sight but his assistant, Renato, had taken pity and managed to escort her out on a field trip. Mostly it was Renato that kept her company, that tried to work with her on figuring things out. She'd been grateful for him, and even for the Valkyries but Kendal Baxter? What a piece of work. Merry's nose wrinkled, arms folding across a now flat chest as she stalked up the aisle of the temple. She'd tried to learn more about Felix, knowing that people might have certain expectations of him and found that he was someone she might have liked. He was the kind of guy people were fond of, even if he drove them crazy because he would crack a joke or give a big goofy grin and you'd just forgive him. You'd want to punch him one minute and the next you were letting him hug you, lead you into mischief. Felix Sharpe was everything Merry hadn't been and wanted to be. Felix had been himself.
She'd wanted to honour him, wanted to speak some words for the departed and could think of no better place than the temple. It was why she stood at the altar lighting a candle, why she prayed over it in her native Romanian, marveling at the strangeness of it coming from a foreign mouth.
It wouldn't hurt if someone heard she was there. She wanted them to come.
She'd been trying for so long to be what others wanted, so she'd never really become anything.
She felt like nothing.
The realisation had left her wallowing for a day until Kendal had stormed into the space she was staying in, muttering something along the lines of being unable to deal with his face looking like THAT. "That" she assumed was pouting, sulking. He'd been quiet towards her for the most part, tense or agitated, asking few questions and keeping them brief. He'd tried to lock her up out of sight but his assistant, Renato, had taken pity and managed to escort her out on a field trip. Mostly it was Renato that kept her company, that tried to work with her on figuring things out. She'd been grateful for him, and even for the Valkyries but Kendal Baxter? What a piece of work. Merry's nose wrinkled, arms folding across a now flat chest as she stalked up the aisle of the temple. She'd tried to learn more about Felix, knowing that people might have certain expectations of him and found that he was someone she might have liked. He was the kind of guy people were fond of, even if he drove them crazy because he would crack a joke or give a big goofy grin and you'd just forgive him. You'd want to punch him one minute and the next you were letting him hug you, lead you into mischief. Felix Sharpe was everything Merry hadn't been and wanted to be. Felix had been himself.
She'd wanted to honour him, wanted to speak some words for the departed and could think of no better place than the temple. It was why she stood at the altar lighting a candle, why she prayed over it in her native Romanian, marveling at the strangeness of it coming from a foreign mouth.
It wouldn't hurt if someone heard she was there. She wanted them to come.