What seems like the tragic sinking of his ship and the drowning of all aboard he might have called comrades in the midst of a terrible storm is nothing more than just that. Her magic is powerful, enough to make him think that they're all dead, that there's no way to reach them or save them, while in truth the ship is wrestled by the crew's expert hands away from the island, out of the worst of the storm and away.
Each person on board believing the Prince lost.
She's long since been able to harden her heart, to steel herself to use such tactics. They're deceitful, yes, but better than truly condemning all on board to death. If the man ever discovers what she's done he'll know at least that she's not a murderer, that she's not so far gone as to kill a hundred men just to bring one to her island.
Looking at him now with sympathy, unfeigned in this at least, she watches his shoulders slump. Sees the hope die and the grief settle in.
Breathing heavily, she turns her gaze then to the illusion, to the violent waves that seem to swallow what's left of a broken ship, and the last broken cries of the crew. Her head drops as she catches her breath, fingers curling into the sand as she sits not far from where he stands.]
You'll kill yourself if you try to go out there. [The wind of her storm blows through her wet hair as she lifts her face once more.] The waves...I nearly went under myself trying to get to you.
no subject
What seems like the tragic sinking of his ship and the drowning of all aboard he might have called comrades in the midst of a terrible storm is nothing more than just that. Her magic is powerful, enough to make him think that they're all dead, that there's no way to reach them or save them, while in truth the ship is wrestled by the crew's expert hands away from the island, out of the worst of the storm and away.
Each person on board believing the Prince lost.
She's long since been able to harden her heart, to steel herself to use such tactics. They're deceitful, yes, but better than truly condemning all on board to death. If the man ever discovers what she's done he'll know at least that she's not a murderer, that she's not so far gone as to kill a hundred men just to bring one to her island.
Looking at him now with sympathy, unfeigned in this at least, she watches his shoulders slump. Sees the hope die and the grief settle in.
Breathing heavily, she turns her gaze then to the illusion, to the violent waves that seem to swallow what's left of a broken ship, and the last broken cries of the crew. Her head drops as she catches her breath, fingers curling into the sand as she sits not far from where he stands.]
You'll kill yourself if you try to go out there. [The wind of her storm blows through her wet hair as she lifts her face once more.] The waves...I nearly went under myself trying to get to you.