Her ears are ringing.

She cannot tell if it is the ocean tide rushing to the shore or the aftermath of the artillery-fire beat of her heart, loud enough that she is sure Marisol can hear it too. It drowns out the way her breathing grows ragged and rushed, unable to pull enough oxygen in to satisfy her lungs, and when Marisol’s sharp teeth scrape against her neck she almost forgets how to breathe entirely.

(She wonders, if she moved wrong, would the bite transform her too? Or is the oceanic baptism part of the process of changing? She almost pushes her neck up into the bite to find out, but the Halcyon does not need two monsters running rampant in their midst, not when their reputation is still so smeared.

But oh, she is tempted.)

"Too much." When has she become this weak? When had she fallen so far, when had she abandoned her pride somewhere along the way? She could find no other explanation for how easily the commander drew the truth from her lips, the darkest secrets and hidden desires she’d managed to swallow down for so long, all spilling out into the space between them as each word reverberates down her spine.

“Enough that I would give up my wings for it,” It wrenches from her throat, hoarsely honest, and perhaps the most terrifying truth is that she would, she would rend her own wings from her shoulders if it meant she got to keep Marisol in her life, and gods that was perhaps the harshest realization she’s come to in ages, that she is so far gone for this woman she would give up everything else she loves.

Perhaps it is less brutal when she knows that Marisol would never ask her for such a sacrifice if it were not entirely necessary, that she trusts the commander enough to promise such a thing. Perhaps what she is truly promising is her obedience, and her loyalty, and that she will not allow these emotions to compromise her on the battlefield.

Perhaps she shouldn’t make such promises when she was already compromised.

Then again, she wasn’t the only one.

She had thought she could be stronger than this, but she had been wrong. She is folding to a pet name and the heavy-dark lust that runs through her veins, and when she moves her head to look at Marisol, her pupils have nearly swallowed the jeweled brightness of her eyes. For a moment, her tail curls around the commander’s foreleg, and the smile that pulls across her face is absolutely wicked.

“Dare you to catch me… if you can.” It is an invitation she doubts Marisol will turn down, and with a brief nip to the bay mare’s neck she’s taken off in the direction of the barracks.

She can’t make it too easy, after all.