there's fire in your blood
 | A cold laugh escapes her at Firion’s first words. Like so much else, it’s not what it was - her warmth is missing - but it is still a genuine laugh. One of the few she’s had in the last few years.
But she can’t make sense of Firion’s reaction, the way he seems angry about what was done to her as she sees something change in his gaze, the tense lines that form. What did it matter? Firion wasn’t the one who had been told by someone she loved to kill their child, refusing and refusing until finally relenting because she knew her strike would be kinder. Who woke up in a pool of her own blood, greeted by the sight of the remains of another child that had only just begun. Who had sold herself willingly to buy more time for the very same body who had then inflicted that pain on her. It wasn’t Firion standing here with the memories of all that had happened, everything that was continuing to happen, and feeling detached from them all. Rarely even able to fell the deep well of anger that should come from just one, nevermind the entire collection, and so eagerly distracted by the moments of bliss that blur them all together.
Though at first she does not intend to answer his questions, even the hint of the suggestion that she had done nothing aggravates her further and more of her glowing markings crack down her sides. “I have.” She spits the words out, annoyed both Firion for asking these questions and herself because of the light being cast on her actions and inaction. “Many times. I even bit his head off, literally. But like you and I, death does not seem to be permanent for him.”
She wants this conversation to be over. She doesn’t want to keep following these thoughts and seeing if they connect to the growing frustration she has felt over the (relative) peace and contentment that has settled over Hyaline recently.
So she’s grateful when Firion accepts her change in topic. Her confused frown barely gets a chance to form before he is showing her what he means - and her eyes widen as the handsome stallion turns into something rotten.
Had she done that to him, when she peeled apart his skin?
It is Mazikeen’s turn to take a step forward, pausing when Firion turns back into himself. Confusion churns through her in the second that follows - she doesn’t know why she had the impulse to go towards him when he displayed that decaying version of himself. But it had been there, strong as anything. It must have been just another echo of her former self, she decides - dismissing the thought.
Instead of the handful of insults that flash through her mind, Mazikeen asks flatly “So did you push me away because you thought that would scare me off, or because you knew it wouldn’t?”
m a z i k e e n . |
@ firion
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