Brinly
The weight behind Brazen’s single-word reply to Brinly’s observation does not go unnoticed, and though her eyes narrow and her lips purse, she chooses not to pry. She supposes that if she wanted to reveal more, then she would. As someone that personally kept every emotion safe-guarded inside her chest, Brinly never expected anyone else to be open, either.
And perhaps that is why she is so suspicious of everyone. Because she knows the kind of thoughts and feelings that she keeps hidden, she knows how easy it is to hide everything about you from the world. She knows what it’s like for not a single soul to know the real you.
She had already begun to step in the direction of Pangea when Brazen is suddenly blocking her path. “Brazen,” her name is sharp against her tongue, her dark eyes cold as they collide with the blue of hers. “Move.” Her jaw clenches, because she knows that Brazen knows she cannot hurt her. There are so few in her life that have skin that can protect themselves from the intense heat of her own, but Brazen was one of them. In a way, that was a blessing – because even though it would never be the same as touching real skin-to-skin, it was the compromise Brinly had had to learn to settle with.
With ears flat into the wild tangles of her mane she bites back the seething remarks that boil at the back of her tongue, her gaze fierce and unwavering, but of course, Brazen matches it.
Eventually, she relents.
“Fine.” The word is blunt, but her stance has relaxed, if only minimally. “Fine,” she repeats, and it is quieter this time, some of the heat dying from her voice, her eyes softening slightly when she says, “Let’s go home, then.”
— burn until our lives become the embers —