❝I don't know everything, but I know you are not the evil that haunts my bones and taints my dreams.❞
✱✱
In which she gave too much to the world. Just not the right parts.
✱✱
oc x john walker
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Dinora gave the world too much.
Her mind, body, and soul. No matter where the blood flowed, it was all an offering for those she worshipped below a lustrous throne. Knees filled with dust and rocks, digging deeply into the seams of her skin. Hands clasped tightly together with teary eyes and a gratified smile to catch the salty drops.
Dinora could not distinguish the murky area where day blended into night. She ached for the moral gray river that blissfully swept away her body. Unaware that the world held a firm view on what was right or wrong. On who was deemed worthy enough to be a hero or who was damned to a life long servitued of villainy.
But those mannerisms and outlook were not of her own. They were skewed together from the bits and pieces of the familiar faces who found her first. Their ideals were neither unjust nor complicated to understand-- they were simply right.
Her eyes that simmered with eagerness and naivety grasped onto every last bit of ideology her mentor stood firmly beside. She absorbed them, oblivious that the specks of gold were nothing more than spores drifting from a stale mushroom nestled in the deep shadows.
