Where the hell are you; litotes

[litotes]

but you’d never get hit without earning it
and i only hit you first ‘cuz i deserved my own hit too
still it comes the time to call you out
since i’m the one that you should be about

There is a vague memory of the woman that flies into Pangea. One that itches mildly at the back of his mind and then turns into an unbearable bug bite. He watches her quietly, testing out the lengths of magic by stretching incredibly small wisps of shadow in her direction. They are imperceptible, nearly nonexistent, but he can still feel her hocks beneath their grip.

The Archon has coated himself in blackness once again, shielding himself from any prying eyes. Nimue may have eyes such as those, considering the quiet passion the two shared. It is hard to remember all of the faces he has pressed his own to when he uses such intoxication to pass the time; still, she is familiar in face and in body, and the cremello has an inkling of why she has come to visit.

Crickets chirp loud enough to cover the sound of Litotes’ labored sigh. He casts his cloak to the side and approaches his acquaintance, quickly bringing Felicitey’s mischievous little face to the forefront of his mind.

“Nimue,” Lie murmurs once within a few feet of his daughter’s mother. “What brings you to Pangea?” Their daughter, of course, but he will allow her to speak her piece.

Litotes

@[Nimue Isolde]