Remorse is a funny word.
I find no meaning in it.
Sure, it could be in a dictionary, but it doesn't matter.
I never look back.
I always look away.
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Perhaps this is why I'm stuck.
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The horned beast stays silent, peering down at their oddly familiar drink. Thoughts ran rampantly around their head, yet they looked stoic and sure on the outside. Truth be told, the Url themself was suffering inside. In true fashion, the newly formed symbiosis of an Oorl worm and an elven host had found a crisis afoot. Fitting into their old life, it was like putting on your old shoes from childhood when you're nearing a hundred or so years, or when you've replaced something that worked well on its own for something that looked better in your mind than in actual reality.
Time ticked by as the day wound down. Night fell, drunkards took their usual seat at the bar. In their dazed hurry, they paid little attention to the crouched beast squeezing into their small space. She was nearly hunched over, and a hand finally snatched out to grab at her horn. An actual, physical horn. This nightmare was all too real. It couldn't have happened.
A frustrated grumble left the mighty lips of the goat lady, swiping her arms to knock her drink off the bar.
"A violen' drunk, eh? Didn' peg ye Url t'be doin' somethin' loike dat, innit a sight?"
Blatantly mocked, she felt. Mocked by a drunkard who could barely speak. The girl rested her gaze on the alcohol ridden man who had obviously dwindled his livelihood fortune on perpetual happiness. His skin was a bronze tan, sprinkled with aging spots and the years of hard labor written and scribed all over him.
"And I never thought Ailor could be failures, but you definitely proved me wrong," She replied eloquently, sending a hand to brush back her own curved ears that were snipped to make her uncle happy. Of course, though, those were gone as well.
Before the recent times, she had always been as thick as thieves with him. Edward was the best man she knew. She could look up to him, to respect him. He always was there for her.
Until he wasn't. Life had strained him, too far for his own good. He began to have terse conversations with her. He began to violently insult her, and even kicking her to the streets.
Another thing she couldn't ever be. She was a beast, a monster. She could never be what Edward wanted in a niece. She couldn't marry someone and get them nobility. She couldn't settle down and do something for the rest of her years. Children were definitely out of the question.
"Are yuh done starin' lad?"
Awkwardly, the Url had been boring their sights into the drunkard's head.
"What? What could you possibly want from me now?" She snapped, reeling back her head and patting her sides.
"You need to talk about it. Void, not like I'll remember a thing…" His voice straightened up. He seemed to make a genuine effort.
That was enough for her.
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