the blood on my teeth
begins to taste like a poem
begins to taste like a poem
"I
did." Her words hang in the air between them, and the corner or his lips twitch. Something almost like amusement lingers there, subtle enough to be questionable, a shadow in the wrong place.He lifts his head, baring his horns to the sky. "Pity." She offers nothing else, no further words to define her relationship with the deceased - but perhaps, she doesn’t need to. Toulouse is already filling in the blanks with his mind, in the way her gaze lingers over the body and how her jaw tightens, just slightly, when she speaks.
The dead girl is a Davke, that much is plain enough to see - all of the dead are. Starved and bloated, their decay is not enough to hide the scars and the paint and the feral edges to their teeth. The sand around them is disturbed, no doubt by the thrashing legs of a downed horse resisting their fate. Even on the brink of death, the Davke would fight until the end.
And she was one of them - but she was not with them.
"Is that really such a surprise?" he asks, and his voice is dangerously soft. "Did Raum ever come here for anything but death?" He leaves the words unspoken, but still they hang heavily between them in the silence. Toulouse does not react when she takes her spear and the rock, and flames leap to existence between the two. The dead girl is the first to be consumed by them, but it will not be long before they all feel the fire’s kiss.
Toulouse watches the flames, their orange glow reflected in his eyes. The wind sends smoke washed over them, and he knows the acrid smell of burning flesh will hover over him like a shroud. But he does not care.
It’s only when she turns to face him again that he shifts his gaze, first to the delicate edge of the spear’s blade as she returns it to her holster, then to the bright red of her eyes. The light of the fire plays shadows across her skin, highlighting each sharp edge of her face. He lets her question go unanswered for a second too long, holding her gaze evenly. But then his lips curl again, and he laughs quietly without joy.
"Just passing through," he tells her, and he’s sure she knows it isn’t the full truth. He holds her gaze for as long as he dares before looking away, keeping her in his periphery. Like she’s a snake, he will not be unprepared if she strikes. When she strikes.
When dealing with a snake, it was often better to be the first to strike. Just in case.
"Is he the first king to conquer the Davke so?" It’s a dangerous question to ask - but between the orange of the flames and the sharpness of her spearpoint, Toulouse is feeling something dangerous today.
@avdotya | "speaks" | notes: on today’s episode of how long can it take sid to reply…
