[P] white teeth teens are out;

[Apolonia]

AMERICA'S FAVORITE, I DO MY BEST AND THEY HATE IT -

Elif’s smile is one of very few that does not set O’s skin to an immediate shudder. 

For once she grins back - secret, pointed, wild. Something unexpectedly warm flares and glitters like mica against the swirling colors of her eyes, and she finds herself pleased, randomly, that Elif is not so soft as to take offense to the serrated edge of her voice. Hm, she says in response to the girl’s dead-end quip, and the clipped length of her answer could be show disinterest or merely be a mark of easy satisfaction. With her it’s always hard to tell.

Unfortunately not, O answers to the next question, and her mouth twists down in a kind of disappointment. She unhooks the hurlbat from its leatherbound home at her hip and lets it float in the air between them. In this kind of light, dim and oil-slick, the dark metal seems almost opalescent, like it could be anything, if you looked hard enough; the one thing that will never change, though, is the wicked-sharp end of each blade shining like a lighthouse against the rest of it. She looks at it like someone else might look at a piece of jewelry or a favorite book: reverent, lustful, warm.

And then, after a moment, she lets it fall and slides it back into her pocket, easy, but with no theatrics. The dark red of Elif’s skin looks almost bloody in the waning light; O wonders if she should be comparing it to something less violent, then decides it would be impossible. Depends. The grin returns, fleeting and full of shark-teeth. Are you?

The night swells with the humming sound of crickets, and O watches her with all three eyes.

@elif