it coils like a molten snake,
and cuts you like a sharp knife.
this desert heat is a hunter—
it will ruthlessly take your life.
and cuts you like a sharp knife.
this desert heat is a hunter—
it will ruthlessly take your life.
Teiran couldn't help the glance she spared to the crowd around them, full of equines in dresses and other finery. Some of them, no doubt, vipers in their own way. Regardless, she said nothing, allowing him to believe as he wanted, that getting drunk here was any different than getting drunk anywhere else.
Her sage green gaze settled on his grip on the bottle, seeing that he'd nearly finished it. All by himself, considering she had only taken two swigs from it. She was too busy gauging his level of drunkenness to hear him correctly, but once she'd played the spoken words over in her head the turn the conversation had taken wasn't any clearer.
“I don't see what that has to do with anything,” Teiran said, finally looking at Mathias again. The compliment (Was it even a compliment? She couldn't be sure, really. Compliments and her never meshed well), seemed strangely out of place to her even though he had just blatantly been staring at another mare's butt a moment before. Having or not having a nice ass, as he put it, had no bearing on her job as a soldier of Solterra.
He didn't stop there, however, and her brain brushed over the comment about Solterra being a bed and nothing more for Mathias. She couldn't comprehend it, but that wasn't even what caught her attention. Teiran had never been asked such questions before, by anyone, and she was finding it difficult to discern whether he was serious or not.
Oh, the ways in which her ability to read social cues could be improved.
“No,” she responded at first, because it was true and if he really wanted to know then he would know. There was almost a frown to her lips, because in her mind he seemed to be saying she could do better at her work. “I take my job to do what is best for Day Court seriously. How would that improve upon it at all?”
Her sage green gaze settled on his grip on the bottle, seeing that he'd nearly finished it. All by himself, considering she had only taken two swigs from it. She was too busy gauging his level of drunkenness to hear him correctly, but once she'd played the spoken words over in her head the turn the conversation had taken wasn't any clearer.
“I don't see what that has to do with anything,” Teiran said, finally looking at Mathias again. The compliment (Was it even a compliment? She couldn't be sure, really. Compliments and her never meshed well), seemed strangely out of place to her even though he had just blatantly been staring at another mare's butt a moment before. Having or not having a nice ass, as he put it, had no bearing on her job as a soldier of Solterra.
He didn't stop there, however, and her brain brushed over the comment about Solterra being a bed and nothing more for Mathias. She couldn't comprehend it, but that wasn't even what caught her attention. Teiran had never been asked such questions before, by anyone, and she was finding it difficult to discern whether he was serious or not.
Oh, the ways in which her ability to read social cues could be improved.
“No,” she responded at first, because it was true and if he really wanted to know then he would know. There was almost a frown to her lips, because in her mind he seemed to be saying she could do better at her work. “I take my job to do what is best for Day Court seriously. How would that improve upon it at all?”
