05-26-2018, 08:56 PM
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★ WHEN MY HEART IS MADE FROM GOLD AND FORGIVENESS SEEMS TOO BOLD
Hazel wished that she had Margaery's courage sometimes. To just accept her past and take it as it was given to her and realize that it couldn't haunt her anymore.
Problem was, Hazel was still ninety-nine percent sure the nightmares of her past would come back to life and tear her to pieces. She was dead set on running as far as she could from her Mother and her old clan, and refused to drag anyone down with her. This was her life and her set of problems - people shouldn't take the time out of their busy (and occasionally angst-ridden) lives to try and help Hazel with a riddle that couldn't be solved. So until she found a way to get rid of it for good, she would bottle it up and hide it away, where nobody could see it or hear it or touch it. It would be better that way.
But sometimes there were small, rare parts of her past that didn't haunt her so. One of those things was Latin. It had never really felt like it was a part of her past so much as it was...a part of who she was. Nobody had taught her and she never learned it from a book - she was just born with it. Started speaking it one day and never really stopped. Mother always hated when she spoke Latin, which Hazel chalked up to her simply not being able to understand it, and had banned her from speaking it in the house. For Hazel, that meant it was banned in Mother's presence, not the house. So at night, when it was quiet and Mother was gone or asleep, Hazel would make up songs and poems and write them down, all in Latin. Occasionally, when she was tired, she would nod off, humming a lullaby that she didn't make up. The words were like spring water and moss in a quiet forest: gentle and soothing. Hazel didn't know where it was from or how she learned it, but it always made her chest ache with a sad and longing fondness.
But she never spoke it around Mother. And she carried that with her to the Ascendants. It tended to slip every now and again, especially when her emotions ran a bit wild or she was shocked, but she was starting to let it appear in her everyday speech - especially since she had learned Bastille could understand and speak it.
And...Margy too?
Hazel had stopped dead in her tracks while passing the chocolate point, the Latin slipping across her brain like water. Wide eyed, the girl blinked, checking to make sure she heard right. "...Latine tu loqueris?" She asked, voice lilting up in her hope.
(translation: "You...speak Latin?")
Problem was, Hazel was still ninety-nine percent sure the nightmares of her past would come back to life and tear her to pieces. She was dead set on running as far as she could from her Mother and her old clan, and refused to drag anyone down with her. This was her life and her set of problems - people shouldn't take the time out of their busy (and occasionally angst-ridden) lives to try and help Hazel with a riddle that couldn't be solved. So until she found a way to get rid of it for good, she would bottle it up and hide it away, where nobody could see it or hear it or touch it. It would be better that way.
But sometimes there were small, rare parts of her past that didn't haunt her so. One of those things was Latin. It had never really felt like it was a part of her past so much as it was...a part of who she was. Nobody had taught her and she never learned it from a book - she was just born with it. Started speaking it one day and never really stopped. Mother always hated when she spoke Latin, which Hazel chalked up to her simply not being able to understand it, and had banned her from speaking it in the house. For Hazel, that meant it was banned in Mother's presence, not the house. So at night, when it was quiet and Mother was gone or asleep, Hazel would make up songs and poems and write them down, all in Latin. Occasionally, when she was tired, she would nod off, humming a lullaby that she didn't make up. The words were like spring water and moss in a quiet forest: gentle and soothing. Hazel didn't know where it was from or how she learned it, but it always made her chest ache with a sad and longing fondness.
But she never spoke it around Mother. And she carried that with her to the Ascendants. It tended to slip every now and again, especially when her emotions ran a bit wild or she was shocked, but she was starting to let it appear in her everyday speech - especially since she had learned Bastille could understand and speak it.
And...Margy too?
Hazel had stopped dead in her tracks while passing the chocolate point, the Latin slipping across her brain like water. Wide eyed, the girl blinked, checking to make sure she heard right. "...Latine tu loqueris?" She asked, voice lilting up in her hope.
(translation: "You...speak Latin?")
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WITH EVERY HEARTBEAT I HAVE LEFT
i will defend your every breath; i'll do better