[AW] midnight tempest [white scarab]

[Manon]

And don't tell me what to do

Don't tell me what to say

He had been, in nearly every sense of the word, a savior to the girl who had lived in the brothel; she was alone, so alone in a cruel world under the thumb of a woman who made her believe she was cared for, cared about, when really her only interest was in the business. How naive that girl had been, to think she had a mother that wanted her, to think that she had a gentle hand guiding her, to think anything at all but the truth: her father left her (and how that hatred would grow...), her mother never doted upon her (and how twisted like her she would become...), and the brothel owner turned her into a weapon (what a deadly weapon she was...).

And then Senna was there, a younger version of himself and all the ways he carried a promise to her on his back; how they had met so long ago and he gave her a reason to get out and put herself to better uses. "Better" was a relative term, but really with her so was everything else. They would find a way to fit together in shapes she hadn't ever learned of, and perhaps it would be the first time she ever felt anything but spite toward another individual.

She would go on to feel many, many things about him.

He offered her refuge in his grandeur establishment meant for a 'no questions asked' lifestyle, and fell into its arms quicker than any other place prior. Young, but not innocent, she could ask for nothing better, and with stars in her eyes she pledged loyalty to the only man she would for years to come. He was unlike those of the streets, unlike a father that was more prideful than considerate, and maybe, maybe... there would be a day that she could capture his heart too.

But he had things to do and she had revenge to seek, and on his many leaves of absence from the Scarab while he traveled back to Solterra, and his house, she found other ways to occupy her heart. He never minded her dirty jobs or feigned disinterest in her work; he seemed to accept her fully, and in return she provided the Scarab with business and kept their patrons entertained and wanting more. She would leave him her roses and one-off letters and wish his safe returns, secretly hoping that their future would amount to more than memories and just-missed arrivals and goodbye-less departures.

It would seem that day, though, on the day of her return from a semi-imposed exile (not the first she had experienced in recent times), he, too, would be there to greet her.

She hadn't noticed the larger dark shadow slip across the floor while her words hung like a fog between her and August, though he didn't offer an immediate reply and seemed to shut himself up tightly quite unexpectedly. Silently she wondered what she could have said to zip him up so, but with a flourish of motion he was gone, and instead...

Senna.

To say the world around her ceased movement and time slowed and her vision only had room for him wouldn't have quite covered the intensity of the crashing of her heart against rusted ribs, the way her legs felt weak and her mind struggled to find purchase. How long... how long had it been since they last crossed paths, since he had managed to find time away from Solterra to personally visit? He had left everything to Aghavni, to August and Vikander, and she was sure that she would have had to go to the desert in search of him some day first. But he stood there, with her, in a quiet, dying night's bosom, and he rendered her helpless. She would have cursed out loud if she wasn't trying to preserve her image.

He seemed to have aged eons since their last meeting, but she would never dare ask about it. What sorts of horrors had you seen, Senna, out where the beasts roamed free and the sun never quite set? But he was made all the more handsome for it, wearing the weariness like the crown upon her brow. He was timeless.

She watched him like a predator does their prey, but without the lingering threat of death over their heads--all appeal without any of the destruction, rare for a woman who wore chaos like blush across marble cheeks. Maybe he brought out the peace in her.

He mentioned the Enchantress and she was trust back to the moment her name rang across the market square and Senna's name appeared on that parchment. Her heart skipped, and she realized that she never actually thanked him for the gift. "Senna, I..." Had she ever actually given thanks before? Had she been grateful for anything, anyone, outside of him? Maybe she couldn't recall because her thoughts felt hollow, or maybe it was because the beating of her heart was drowning out everything but the sight of him. She couldn't recover quickly enough by the time he was ready to move on, but not from her it seemed, as he invited her up, and up, and perhaps they wouldn't ever have to go back down.

"Wherever you shall go..." I will follow, but she held her tongue and the glint in her eye might have been enough for him to understand. "Got away," were his words and she laughed softly toward him as they moved up the stairs and left those flickering candles behind to melt in their path. "Which time, dear friend?" She countered his inquiry, then quickly covered her dagger words with a sigh, "Though I suppose they have all ended the same. There are few individuals more charming than me, you know," and the stairs were narrow so it was likely he wouldn't have caught her wink as they pressed side by side and their skin lightly brushed, and his feathers inadvertently covered her speckled back (narrow, but not so narrow as to keep her behind him). He was cheeky, certainly, but she knew his cards and could read his hand just as easily as he could hers.

She knew better than to ask about Aghavni, about the dealings in the Scarab, about his personal life as head of House Hajakha, and perhaps there were better times for talk of business. So she picked up a small humming tune to accompany their way up the floors, time spinning and spanning and not quite real. At the top, she stopped and allowed him to pass before her, giving a sarcastic bow of her head and murmuring a soft "After you, " though making a point to stay close behind.

@Senna it's okay, i wrote you a novel back c:

CREDIT