It was an effort to continue speaking when everything hurt so badly and she just wanted to close her eyes and sleep—or die, as she knew she would. But she wasn't the type to back down. Had never been. And every word from Azurite's mouth stoked the fires of anger in her brighter than the one that'd heated the rod that burned her symbol into the back of her shoulder.
She shoved Azurite's wrist away with as much energy as she could muster. The motion ended up being less of a shove and more of a weak slap, but she figured it got the point across regardless. Ganymede inched back, wrapping her arms around herself like she meant to protect herself. From what, she had no clue. Everything, perhaps. The pain only increased the longer she remained conscious, eating away at her insides and sapping her of all her strength.
“Don't you dare talk to me about Cyllene as if you give a damn about her when it's the Negaverse who destroyed her,” she seethed. “Don't you talk to me about whatever promise you made to Valhalla like it makes a difference! It doesn't! You still brought us here to be tortured! And now here you are, coming to treat us with kindness and compassion as if it makes things better! The only one you're making feel better is yourself! You think that makes you a better person? Let us out of here and prove that you are, or you're no better than the one who forced me to eat that starseed!”
A sudden spasm of pain shot from the dark pit in her stomach up through her chest, momentarily choking off her words. Ganymede winced and hunched over, her arms wrapped around her stomach like they could help ease the pain.
She didn't have the strength to argue like she wanted to. She didn't have the mental capacity to think of the proper words to prove that she was right. Darkness was creeping up on the edges of her vision. Ganymede squeezed her eyes shut against it, as if doing so would give her the will to hold on longer.
“Get out!” she screamed. “Get away from me and leave me alone! I don't give a damn about whatever promise you made to Valhalla! You tell him I'd rather die than accept help from the likes of you! Do you hear me? GET OUT!”
[Mistress Morbid]
