one good honest kiss, to feel alright
There’s that loving welcome I came all this way for. She grins at him, and it’s real and bright, even against the hot sand of Solterra and the yellow-white sun overhead. Even in a land that sparkles with light Bexley’s smirk is something bioluminescent, gives off its own aeonian aura against the dark gold of her skin and the bright blue of her eyes and the way she watches him - seething, watching, dusky.
She does not think of that time in the Markets, when she shattered his bones like glass on the pavement. She does not think of the way her scar still tingles across her face, sometimes, when the weather shifts too much. She does not even think of the Bethesda of Denocte and the way the smell of it still lingers on Acton’s skin in jasmine and fog. Ha! she says to his rebuttal, and nips at his shoulder with a half-smirk.
The market whirls around them, and Bexley pushes her shoulder into his so that they stumble away from the stall together, melting into each other, moving easily through the courtyard and toward a more secluded avenue of Solterra. The tingle that slices into her spine could be magic or it could just be nerves. At this point it’s a familiar feeling either way, and if the curl of Bexley’s stomach against her ribs makes her feel a little weaker than she normally might, well, no one else can tell.
Unfortunately not, she answers, mumbling it into the curve of his neck. There’s always you, though. I’m sure I can find something to yell about.
It's almost a joke, almost, almost.
