VIOLENT DELIGHTS¹ ━━ John Murphy

𝖛. Copycat

𝖈𝖔𝖕𝖞𝖈𝖆𝖙

TWO WEEKS PASS and John Murphy is the only thing on her mind.

Turns out that trekking through hundreds of tree lengths of forest by yourself for days on end leave you stuck in your own head. She'd have thought she'd been thinking of wars and crowns, of flames and glory, or at the very least Roan. But she can't seem to bring herself to think about what she's heading towards. Only what she's left behind.

It's not a very nice feeling.

Actually, she hates it.

She hates it almost just as much as she doesn't hate him.

Which is an even worse feeling. Somewhere Glass once heard that people didn't know what they'd had until it was gone, that they always took things for granted and could care less for the things they had until, well, they didn't have them anymore. Not that John Murphy had ever belonged to her, anyways. At least that much had always been abundantly, painfully, clear. He'd never belonged to her and she'd never belonged to him and now everything is fucked up and ruined all because of her.

It was her fault, after all.

And yet it wasn't supposed to happen like this. She isn't supposed to end up hurt. She's supposed to be better than this. Better than all of this.

But... but he makes her feel. He makes her feel things she doesn't want to feel.

Made. Made her feel.

Because it's all over, isn't it?

(All for the better, she knows. Finn, Costia. . . these trivial emotions lead only to more pain and more weakness. Nothing good ever comes from that.)

Sinking her teeth into the scarred flesh on her lips, Glass lets the hot liquid spill onto her tongue like molten lava. But the blood on her teeth only tastes like worthless gods, like dying stars, like faulty religions, like the way he used to look at her.

At least it's a new pain to focus on.

⚔️

TRADING POSTS AND BOUNTY HINTERS are how Glass uncovers where Roan's been hiding, the crown prince having spent weeks on the fringes of komgeda land, skirting borders around clan territories. Banished warriors have kill orders hanging over their heads, assuming that crown princes aren't exceptions to the rule, and briefly Glass wonders if her blood-stained hands will officially become criminal if she's caught seeking him out. That'd certainly show Murphy, wouldn't it? Two weeks apart and Glass had become just like him - a criminal.

Then she decided she was being dramatic and needed to think about something else. Like maybe her literally banished brother.

After spending two weeks scouring the outskirts of society and dealing with cutthroat criminals who seem to think she's a defenseless little girl, Glass had stumbled across a trading post run by a woman named Niylah, born of a Trikru father and Azgeda mother. She'd seen someone matching Roan's description and managed to give Glass a good enough idea of where her banished brother could be hiding.

Two more days were spent bumbling about the Northern tundra, then finally Glass found him.

She's looking at him right now, actually.

The skies above are a freezing blue, sparse clouds dotting them like dandelions dotted the forests in Trikru territory. Beneath them are the glacial plains of ice and snow, a pristine white dominating most of the landscape, reigning over the mountain peaks that stretch across the horizon and reach for the blinding sun. At first glance it seems utterly barren, but Glass knows better than to take anything at first glance now.