AMERICA'S FAVORITE, I DO MY BEST AND THEY HATE IT -
Indeed they are like nothing else, the Night Markets simmering with amber and cinnamon, and O is not at all surprised that Elif has never seen them - but also some part of her laments that she, herself, has - that for all her efforts, for her boiling Solterran blood, there is some part of her that can only be sated by Denocte’s darkness and cobblestone.
It leaves a bad taste in her mouth, and she grinds her jaw in an effort to clear it. In the ever-leaving light of the sunset it would be hard to catch unless you watched closely. Overhead the stars glimmer against a newly-oppressive darkness, and it does not make Apolonia feel anything other than confused.
They aren’t, she answers finally. Like anywhere else - and who’s to say if the ringing in her voice is pride or discontent?
Either way she lets the edge slip from her eyes, and by the next beat she is only a girl again, wearing that toothy shark grin. With a casual movement the Solterran sloughs a wave of dark hair from her shoulder and then they are walking again, girl and gun, girl and sword, like a thing out of a story, and for all O’s practicality, even she can see the magic of it.
The air sings with a brightly sweet smell, clear and soft.
O scoffs at the next question. Yeah, she answers, a little derisively, and bites out a hard smile.
And that is all.
@elif