All thanks to Saima’s grace towards her, though. Respiration of ripe air between cherry’d lips, and she takes it all in slowly before letting it out through her nose. She’s thankful they don’t judge her under rigid laws like Pharisees’ standards. They get it. They get her.
❛ You sure you can handle my truth though ? You sure it’s not too messy for you ? ❜ Her tone’s gentle but as raw and real as an all-consuming fire: it’s intense because she’s intense.
❛ I’m cursed, Saima. Don’t you worry it’ll jinx you too ? ❜
It seems like more often than not all Saima has to offer is a little bit of grace now and then. If that seems to help others then so be it.Nonetheless, Stella’s words get under their skin a little bit. It’s almost a doubt that they don’t fully appreciate being directed their way. “I can handle your truth. I can handle the fact that you’re cursed – and frankly, I don’t really worry about that. Since honestly, there’s a part of my existence that has been doomed in its own sense anyway.”
Between posing as an embodiment and wrestling with the ‘cursed’ nature of that kind of existence, being hyper-aware of their eternal separation from those they patron, and just the memories and odd limitations they can feel – curses are nothing new to Saima, let that be known.
“I just would rather have a vote of confidence from you Stella. If nothing else.I know the truth gets incredibly messy – but that’s the nature of such things more often than not.“
Seekesotsibteadmist 