Once again, she submerged herself in another's presence. It was so easy.

With Set she was the questioning Watson, the one who gently doesn't understand to help tease out brilliant ideas. With Marianne she was subject, kneeling before the inferno. With Asterion she was a wrecking ball of glass, breaking and broken all at once. And with Tirzah...

She doesn't know how to be. Doesn't know who to be. Please! Please, tell her! Tell her if she should kneel! Tell her if she should stand! Your whole society is based around the Great Chain and that divine promise that everyone will know their place - so tell her where hers is! Why torment her like this, her alone in all the world not knowing if she should kiss lips, hands, or feet. Damn you, Tirzah, [i]please[/i]...

She melts, drawn out and in-between and so fragile, a mirror reflecting nothing and rendered into mere inert glass. She aches into that touch on her throat, as vulnerable as the moment she was first broken.

"Tell me how to save you," she whispers. What must she give? There must be something, there must be something of herself still to sacrifice.