Snippet #372662

Fatalism be damned!

Svenrine had had every intention of fixing this brooch. It was brilliantly made, smooth, sharp lines, clean edges and absolutely dashing. She remembered taking the hot brooch, a triangular one, good quality iron, a smaller gold triangle inlaid into it, and handling it with her heavily gloved hands. She took the slightly glowing thing and pressed it into the cold water.

The steam was refreshing as it brushed past her face. It was a nice feeling, it cleaned out the lungs and opened up the pores. She took a highly coincidental and effective deep breath.

Suddenly steam was thicker, heavier... almost... tangible. She opened her eyes, and it wasn't so much that she was falling, but that the world was turning around her. She was still standing up, but now she was facing the ground, dropping into the keg full of water, but not so much dropping as walking forward. It was ethereal, magical, invigorating.

But mostly vomit-inducing.

She felt the water seep in, soak through every once dry fiber. She kicked and she spat and tried to find where up was, where down was.

Now she was washed up on a shore, chewed up and spat out by fate...

Now they were sprinkling sand on her? Had these people no shame? Admittedly Svenrine was near unconscious, and could hardly grasp the idea that her life had changed forever. She felt warmer, despite the wet clothes which, because of dust they were pouring on her, were probably getting muddy.

She stood up, craning her sore neck. Admittedly she didn't know what to ask... start over? Explain why us? Why here? Why now? All that came out was,

"You're supposed to guide us? Who is us?"