She's got the devil's eyes
She had stopped looking for him a long time ago. Perhaps sometime shortly after he shredded his own sight so thoroughly. It was clear then he hadn’t wished to be found. And so she had done him one final favor and stopped looking. It had only served to stoke the pain of betrayal anyway. And she had never been a masochist.
Now though, she is so very nearly ready to forget. The woman who never forgets and never forgives. She should know better however. Should know that the past is never forgotten, never truly left behind. And though she had made the choice to let sleeping dogs lie, inevitably they must wake.
She hadn’t been looking for him. Hadn’t even thought of him, truth be told. Not since she had ascended the throne, at least. But she had kept her long held habits. The ones that have her too often scouring the most curious reaches of Beqanna in search of stray bits of information. It is that habit that brings him to her attention. That ancient foible allows her eye to catch on the beast as he shifts into a familiar green form.
She might have smiled at that once. Might have gone to him without hesitation. He had been her closest friend then, and she had cared for him far more than she would ever admit.
She is not certain she could ever forgive him for destroying that.
She wouldn’t have gone now, except for the way he growls her name the moment he materializes. She had made the decision to leave him in the past, but it seems the past has too many ways of rearing it’s unwelcome head. She doesn’t know what he might want from her, but she does know what she wants. Or rather, what she doesn’t want.
She had been content to leave him to his life when he had kept himself from hers. Perhaps though, he needed reminding of why he had ripped his own eyes out to keep her from finding him. Why he was better off keeping the distance he had once so clearly craved.
The woman who steps from the trees is poised, carefully contained. He might no longer have the ability to see her, but her steady breathing and firm step would tell a story of its own. “I always thought you might return,” she greets easily, her voice cool, impassive. Faintly dangerous. “But I never thought you would be so foolish as to ask for me when you did.”
and they'll cut you like a weapon