Mavka was a Corporalnik like no other, a theif like no other, and a little sparrow among a murder of crows.
Her safe haven was with the boy with the cane and the pretty eyes, despite the two seeming like opposite ends of a live wire, and now they h...
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Mavka Alexeya was painfully used to arguments. She had been raised through screaming matches and broken glasses and fists thrown through doors and walls. But because she was used to it, did not mean she enjoyed it.
Since the pyres, Nina had stormed off ahead with her emotions in a flurry. She sniffled and sobbed, trying to get away from everyone so she could let it all out in peace. Nina was not a self conscious person which allowed everyone to see that this had really hit the woman hard. Matthias had gone after her and the sound of their raised voices up ahead were both overwhelming and distant, certain words and phrases coming out clearer than others.
Mavka had heard Matthias yelling about how his sister and parents had been killed by Inferni that raided the village he grew up in, and it was just a small insight as to why he viewed Grisha as these evil beings that deserved the worst, but it didnt stop her own thoughts swirling about how hypocritical he was being in his views. It was a double edged sword.
Druskelle had tormented the lives of innocent Grisha just as select Grisha had done to them. The difference was, the Druskelle were created for the sole existence of hunting any Grisha - so where Druskelle with horrid intentions were the ones hurt, it meant innocent Grisha had to suffer amongst the few that were not so innocent.
Grief, in this sense, was not a mirror with an exact reflection.
Mavka had so many choice words for Helvar, so many she wished she could release from the cage that was her throat. But she didnt because she couldnt.
The group behind were in somewhat silence, contemplating what to do about the couple ahead.
Mavka had overcome her own crying in silence - nothing out of the ordinary for a girl of her occasional timid disposition. Kaz was pleasantly surprised when she finally reconnected with the group and appeared almost silently next to him to the point where he scolded himself for not hearing her approach. She tucked her hair behind her ears.
He noticed her nose and cheeks were peppered with a blotchy pink; he knew it wasn't the cold doing that.
Wylan had also noticed just before she got to the group again - he had actually slowed down to tap her on the arm, meekly.
She was surprised.
"Are you okay?" Asked Wylan. She was glad his voice was carried away by the wind so no one else could hear.
She nodded, averting her eyes to the floor and pressing her lips into a thin line.
"Are you sure?" He didnt want to upset or anger her by repeatedly asking but it was the second time he had seen the stone cold sword-weilder of Ketterdam in a state of vulnerability he was sure she would never allow anyone to see if she could control it. The fact that Wylan had seen was because he was looking.
