Brinly
Much like Isilya, Brazen’s friendliness was almost anxiety inducing rather than reassuring. It’s a flaw on her part, of that she is sure; just another abnormality, that she would rather someone fight with her than show her any sort of kindness. She can’t remember if she has always been this way – she can’t remember if the white-hot poison that altered everything inside of her had twisted her personality as well, or if she has always been this bitter in the face of joy.
There is a chance that she is just a miserable individual, and that she would suffocate everyone around her with her negativity. And normally, this is when she plays the martyr and tells herself that someone like Brazen would be better off without her. This is when she tells herself it would be easier to walk away now before she can let her down, or hurt her, or mess up in all the many number of ways she usually does.
And so it is a mystery even to her that she wants to stay, though everything about her facial expressions say otherwise.
When the other girl doesn’t even seem the least bit put off by the way she had nearly snapped her name she feels a twinge of annoyance. She doesn’t know if Brazen is purposely unwavering because she knows someone like Brinly would find it insufferable, or if that’s just how she is. Either way, that in combination with the way she tells her she’s glad that she came is enough to cause her ears to flick back towards her mane, casting her an irritated glance, but otherwise saying nothing.
She sidesteps away from her effortlessly when she edges closer, not even bothering to issue her usual warning, but instead playing it off as though she was about to move anyway. She is almost certain that Brazen is attempting to see how far she can push her, since she should know by now to not touch her, or get close to her. Other than the way she clenches her teeth she does nothing besides step off towards the shoreline, but her muscles slowly relax when Brazen begins to talk. “The plague. I forgot about that,” she muses mostly to herself out loud, her gaze focused on the white caps of the waves in the distance as they break against the shore. “I missed most of that, since I was busy avoiding everyone,” the smallest of smiles conflicts with the dryness of her voice, and for a moment her gaze flits sideways to look at the girl next to her. “Did you get sick?”
— burn until our lives become the embers —