It didn’t make sense. Roaki was so sick of nothing making any sense. 

Quinnlash was her enemy, that was true the day she was born, and it would be true until the day she died. Only, that should have been weeks ago, and then it should have been every moment afterwards. Now, it was supposed to be in less than a week. It was going to be over. 

She was so, so ready for it to be over. 

Since her defeat, more than the grief, and the humiliation, and the abject self-loathing, what Roaki felt most was [i]tired[/i]. Fifteen years of cold, [i]lonely[/i] pain had wrung her dry, and the only thing keeping her going that whole time had been the lust for revenge, and the thought of her father’s face when she burned his legacy to ash. All she’d wanted was to take House Tormont with her to the grave. She’d dug the hole, she’d butchered the name. All she had to do was get in.

That driving fury was cold now. It lingered soul-deep within her, but she could feel it was lost, meandering without focus, or purpose. What was she without it? A worm, small and broken and unfeeling, meant for the dirt. 

Only she wasn’t unfeeling. She wasn’t broken, not now. Not like this. Two feet beneath her, two arms to dig claws into the world and rend it how she pleased. She’d found what parts of her had been lost to the Modir [i]in[/i] the Modir and now they were hers again. This body was hers. 

[i]This[/i] was her. 

[i]Blotklau[/i] looked up from her hands, looked up at [i]Ablaze[/i]. Roaki looked her dead in the eye. 

Then she ran. 

Heavy, excited breathing broke through Quinn’s comms as [i]Blotklau[/i] tore off, not towards her but away. She flattened forest underfoot, every step a quake that grew faster and faster. She reached the river in a full sprint and the breathing stopped as she leapt into an arc over the water and came crashing down on the other side with all the ferocious grace of a wolf, and kept running. Running for the plateau. She ran low, nearly on all fours, just as she had in their duel, and that heavy panting turned quick and elated and [i]giddy[/i], even. 

She leapt again at the base of the waterfall and slammed into the rockface behind it. A torrent crashed down on her shoulders, cold heavy shock jolting her from scalp to heel and Roaki let out a vicious [i]laugh[/i]. She clawed her way up the surface, tearing down outcroppings, rending stone like clay. At the top her joyous wrath rent the waterfall’s mouth wider, sprayed it like rain to the earth below and pulled herself up, up onto her feet. 

There at the apex of this little world, Roaki let out an ecstatic roar that pushed the comms to static. Anger, agony, pure animalistic excitement. When she was finally done, she panted over the mic once again, and while she was certainly exhausted from so long spent inert, what she wasn’t was [i]tired[/i].

“[color=ec008c]Alright, Quinnlash,[/color]” she rasped, and even from digital miles away, Quinn would be able to hear the toothy grin on her breath. “[color=ec008c]You asked for it.[/color]”