Hornet sat on the balcony of the Wench with her feet dangling over the drop. Her head was down and her face was beginning to hurt from the anxious expression she wore. She'd always loved Limsa Lominsa. It was never really home, the desert was home, but she'd always felt a kinship with the city. And now it felt like a prison. Stuck there, chained to the city, waiting.
It wouldn't be so bad if she had someone to share the time with. Someone who could hold her and lay with her until she relaxed enough to fall asleep. Am I really so co-dependent? She wondered, wishing she could just get drunk and pass out to get away from everything. She couldn't, of course. She had to stay sharp and vigilant. For Gharen and Roen's sake she had to be ready at a moments notice.
She thought she might have that person to share with in Dhemgeim, but she was sure she had ruined it. And bitter though the thought might be, she was quite sure she'd done Dhemgeim a favor. Dhemgeim was broken in ways that Hornet did not have the freedom to help her with right now. Dhemgeim needed someone whole and undivided. She deserved that.
Hornet looked down at the dark water below, leaning precariously over the edge of the balcony. All her power and her plans. Every clever word and passionate kiss. It was all worthless in the end. She would never have Dhem. And even a semi-normal life with Gharen was out of the question. They were two ships, she and him, destined only to meet in passing when the tides were right.
Maybe this was part of the penance. Spend your life alone to atone for the husbands and wives and sons and daughters and fathers and mothers that she's deprived of others. It made a cruel amount of sense. She straightened up and let herself lay down on the deck, staring at the stars. A Yellow Jacket would make her move at some point. But for now she just wanted to stare at the night sky and loose herself in the places between the lights.
It wouldn't be so bad if she had someone to share the time with. Someone who could hold her and lay with her until she relaxed enough to fall asleep. Am I really so co-dependent? She wondered, wishing she could just get drunk and pass out to get away from everything. She couldn't, of course. She had to stay sharp and vigilant. For Gharen and Roen's sake she had to be ready at a moments notice.
She thought she might have that person to share with in Dhemgeim, but she was sure she had ruined it. And bitter though the thought might be, she was quite sure she'd done Dhemgeim a favor. Dhemgeim was broken in ways that Hornet did not have the freedom to help her with right now. Dhemgeim needed someone whole and undivided. She deserved that.
Hornet looked down at the dark water below, leaning precariously over the edge of the balcony. All her power and her plans. Every clever word and passionate kiss. It was all worthless in the end. She would never have Dhem. And even a semi-normal life with Gharen was out of the question. They were two ships, she and him, destined only to meet in passing when the tides were right.
Maybe this was part of the penance. Spend your life alone to atone for the husbands and wives and sons and daughters and fathers and mothers that she's deprived of others. It made a cruel amount of sense. She straightened up and let herself lay down on the deck, staring at the stars. A Yellow Jacket would make her move at some point. But for now she just wanted to stare at the night sky and loose herself in the places between the lights.
