From the blurred haze of her pain and anger, a familiar face takes shape. It comes suddenly into sharp focus; the beautiful brown locks of hair, the mysterious, mesmerizing lines of tattoos. “Samaira.” The rage softens, and the kelpie’s fury yields to a smile. That smile is made all the sweeter for its brevity as the pain twists her face into a grimace. That damn dragon had ripped open the door of her flesh to let pain in, and pain was a selfish, greedy thing. It did not care about the emissary's notions of etiquette. It did not care about propriety. It only wanted to sink and spread and sting, and it did these things with exceeding efficiency.
“It’s nice to see you,” she exhales, flutters her lashes, pretends for just a moment that she isn’t covered in blood and breathless with pain. We should have known a pretty face would make the pain easier for the emissary to swallow. I should have come sooner, the thought occurs to her. I’ve just been so busy… And, she admits to herself, building a relationship with the doctor would provide little to no political advantage. Brushing shoulders with politicians, queens, and champions would get her farther.
But Samaira was one of the first horses she had met. One of the first she could call a friend. One of the few. Surely friendship has value?
Anandi gasps sharply as the saline runs over the wound. Her thoughts instantly return to the present, the pain. “A fucking dragon happened to me,” she snarls, disgusted and furious. The whole event was a complete debacle, one she was not particularly keen to share the details of... But the ways in which she was a victim, those she would be quick to illuminate.
And then the bird comes, the one she once offhandedly (unapologetically) thought about eating. She smells him first-- warm feathers, warm blood-- and then hears the whisper of wings, and then he’s there, white and beautiful. Anandi looks at him, really looks, and is a little unnerved by the intelligence in his eyes.
When the kelpie speaks next she sounds a little smaller. Uncertain. Aware of her vanity, and unapologetic for it. It seems she would always be unapologetic. “Will it scar?” She looks to Samaira with sudden trepidation. "Please don't let it scar."
@
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
