MINYA
take that look from off your face
you ain't gunna burn my heart out
you ain't gunna burn my heart out
Min-ya
Aghavni’s drawl rings like clanging bells and Minya’s gaze lifts to watch the Scarab girl enter her room behind her. Her lips tip into a smile, it is a beautiful thing, tipped with sweet poison. Minya’s are the devil’s lips, a kiss from her is enough to kill – or so the rumour goes. She has never bothered to correct it, or validate it. But her admirer’s are intrigued and so she smiles for them and blows kisses like seductive threats.
If the way Aghavni breaks up her name – twisting it, contorting it – irks her, Minya does not let it show. Not with that satin smile curling like sunlight along her lips. She rises, letting the insult slip like water from her skin. “We both know that is not true.” The fire-girl purrs, feline. Her silver eyes glitter as she holds Aghavni in moonlight and mercury. “Your father would not take any risk that would lose me from the Scarab’s books – not their most valued performer.”
She turns, her long limbs are elegance, the curve of her throat grace. Through thick lashes she watches Aghavni, “Who then would your father replace me with if I were to go? Surely not you.” She muses, sweeping the near invisible line of dust off her dressing table. When her gaze lifts, cold like ice, wicked like a blade, she smiles and there is the blaze of fire. Fire made to scorch, to hurt, to burn.
“I have these gifts that need taking upstairs to my room. I was thinking you and Danny could do that.” Her lips gesture to where a box lay brimming with gems and gifts. Too many to count – should Aghavni lose one on the stairs even Minya would admit that she would never know.
Slowly Minya sweeps her gaze up from the box, to better drink in Aghavni where she stands, farthest from the flames. Minya smiles, sweet like poison. “You look tired today Aghavni – have they been working you too hard?” She slinks a step towards the girl, her lips brushing along the silk scarves that hang in loops down from her hair. “At least you haven’t got a tear in one today. That is your normal look – do you have someone to mend them? I have a scarf that needs sewing too… an admirer pulled on it too hard on stage.” She smiles fondly, remembering, as if to treasure such adoration that would inspire such an action. “I don’t want a poor job on it though – it is very expensive. A one off.”
And slowly she lowers her lips from the scarves that drape from Aghavni’s throat. The smell of liquor and sandalwood clings to Aghavni’s skin, so different to the incense and smoke of the stage. “How is August? Have you seen him today? We are due to meet after my shift is done.” Minya’s eyes gleam, hard as steel. Only a fool could miss the way Aghavni watches him.
@Aghavni <3
@Boudika| "speaks" | notes: eee <3
