How long had she been waiting to do this exactly?

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She had no idea.

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It was something that'd been lingering in her subconsciousness for ages, but the fear of actually doing so, or rather, of the consequences her actions could have? It had been a very efficient tool to keep her at bay. She couldn't reach out to anyone if she cared to keep her life, as such had been their intention. But after the message she'd received during the winter masquerade, Brynnhildr had realised that no matter what she did, they'd eventually find fault enough to make her life a living hell.

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As if her exile hadn't been enough.

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Her cousin's velvet words had been laced with poison when he'd called her. No-one had bothered acknowledging her existence until that particular night, but his threat hadn't missed his mark; she'd screwed up, and had done so royally.

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Now she was sitting in front of her computer, in the dead of night, mindlessly staring at the screen and the blank, virtual paper, hesitation lingering in her fingers. Of the handful of people she could've asked for help, GIDEON GRAVES had never been on her list. A mere name in the papers. But he had been the most-likely to know of her situation; of the who that had caused it.

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And it was time she made sure of that inkling thought. As her fingers slid across her keyboard, a single sentence formed; anonymous and unsigned.

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"What do you know about the Voluntas Society?"

+ Stretch of the Imagination - GIDEON GRAVES

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