TyZula---Sisterhood

Her wrists would be almost bleeding now, the hands clutching them had claws that dug deep. The face near hers would be close, pressing against her neck in a possessive gesture. She always remembered the feeling of breath upon her neck, of slow sentences that spoke of power and of what would happen to false loyalty. If she moved her head a little, one of her wrists became free but the hand that had been holding it would not so gently touch her face. A subtle reminder but one that worked quite well. She had loved the nearness of these encounters, the randomness of it. A brief walk could end up against a wall, or what happened more often, the b

She sent the servants away. She didn't need them anymore. She didn't need anyone. She could ready herself for the coronation. She was the Firelord. There was nothing she couldn't do. In their haste to depart, the servants had left the bowl of cherries behind. She stared at it, then moved towards it, as if drawn by the sight. The red of the cherries was brighter than anything else in the room. Slowly, she sank to her knees in front of the bowl. She could still remember the hard--yet wet--feel of the pit in her mouth. She loathed cherry pits. In this moment, there was almost nothing she hated more. Her lip curled in disgust, but at the same ti