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Imogen has never felt a rage like this before. It burns down to the tips of her fingers, swells in her chest like a balloon ready to burst, very much mirroring what happened to the air genasi’s body moments ago. Fearne’s hoof connects with Ashton’s face and Imogen turns. Just walks. For as long as she can, as far as she can, ignoring the prospect of voices behind her. Someone falls into step with her and Imogen knows it's Laudna without taking her eyes off the dark halls in front of her.
“Are you alright, darling?”
Imogen grits her teeth, bites back a scathing retort. Laudna doesn’t deserve her anger. She hasn’t done anything except fight back against the death that tries to take her time and time again. “No, I’m not.”
Laudna’s cold hand wraps around her wrist and doesn’t let her move any further. “Then talk to me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how distant you’ve been since last night.”
A shiver runs down Imogen’s spine. Delilah Briarwood’s presence had just been a reminder of how close Imogen is to losing Laudna, how much further that line pushes every day. She thinks about Laudna’s fear, and confusion, and acceptance. Laudna learned to accept death because she assumes it’s her only option.
Ashton accepts death because he has no regard for life.
Logically, Imogen knows that Ashton wants to protect the people they care about. But there’s a searing fury that’s sinking into her bones; they had made an agreement, one that wouldn’t have Ashton treating death as if it were a playground. Like her girlfriend didn’t war with it every single minute, several battles past and lost.
Imogen can’t lose anyone else. She takes in a deep breath and faces Laudna. Sweet Laudna, the woman she loves above all else, whom she would cross the lines of this realm and the next for.
“I’m angry,” Imogen confesses, “I’m so angry and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“What are you angry about?” Laudna’s voice is so soft, so understanding, and Imogen wishes she could just melt into it.
“So much, Laud. It’s eating me up inside.” Imogen’s even more enraged when tears pool at the corners of her eyes. “I’m angry about Delilah, I’m angry at Ashton for being so godsdamn selfish, I’m angry that you made me promise to let you die.”
Laudna’s expression morphs into something Imogen doesn’t want to look at, so she plays with the cold, spindly fingers intertwined with her own.
“I don’t like feeling this way, but it won’t stop. It hasn’t, since last night. I think it’s been building for a long time,” Imogen whispers. “Maybe it’s always been there.”
Laudna’s hand pulls from her own to tuck a stray piece of lavender behind Imogen’s ear, drift under her chin, lift her gaze. “You have every right to be angry. Things are awful, every piece of it.”
“I’m mad at you, Laudna.” Imogen lacks conviction in her words but she still needs to get them out.
Laudna just nods. “I know. And that’s okay.”
Imogen furrows her brow. Wishes Laudna wouldn’t be so understanding, that it was easier to hold onto the ball of rage coiled in her gut. She wants to lash out, to release it, but Laudna’s hands are gentle and kind. Her eyes are brimming with an empathy that begins to quell the tenseness of her muscles, ease the trembling of her hands. What tears fall Laudna wipes away, and Imogen stops knowing what to feel.