#leaving it open to whether this is directly aimed at har/konnen or vol/turi

[pyshcic]

⤳   @mahdinate​​​,    𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴,   asked:     ‹ there is no peace without blood, and so it shall be. ›

historically, the sentiment is sound, but it spurs a strange sensation of dread that originates in a very deep recess of alice's chest, and in a cheap attempt at levity she forces herself to smile. a warm, gentle thing which she presses comfortingly into her knees, arms wrapped tightly to hug her legs in towards her chest. it appears in part as though she embraces herself so as not to let it escape her, as if, frightful, it might run off from her. an itch can be felt just behind her left temple, a growing discomfort: it would do to claw out her own eyes. she considers it a blessing that alia proves a blind spot for her, finding the future eluding her –– though its inability to focus is aided by her own unwillingness to see, a cautious and meticulous effort being put into staving off the itch at her temple, gaze clouding and sharpening in a single moment's time. 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚍. however it does, it cannot end well. no apollonian burden was required to see tragedy etched in the sincerity of alia's countenance.

“ well. ... your resolve makes it sound simple. almost easy. but certainly decided. ” she still wears her smile, a peculiar intermingling of horror and admiration in her expression, awkwardly contrasting and supporting the gentle shakiness in her tone. “ you'd go to war for this ( ˢᵖᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᵠᵘᵉˢᵗᶦᵒⁿ –– ᵃᶜᶜᵒᵐᵖᵃⁿᶦᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵃ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᶠᵘʳʳᵒʷ ᵒᶠ ʰᵉʳ ᵇʳᵒʷ ) –– you will, won't you? ”