⠀⠀⠀⠀sits.

⠀⠀⠀⠀disappears into thin air. . . . only to reappear on mizora’s lap.

⠀⠀⠀⠀orin watches the paladin , mildly baffled expression on her face. “ lying ? his innards adorn my personal chambers —— his skull , impaled upon a pike at father’s shrine. ” her weapon withdraws , securely hooked at her belt. “ i’ve not a reason to lie about that. ”

⠀⠀⠀⠀orin’s nose brushes along mizora’s jawline , hands creeping up the cambion’s back and setting upon the junction where the woman’s wings connect with her body. “ because you have so many ? ”

⠀⠀⠀⠀scoffs. dancing ? a child could do it in their sleep.

temp. pinned

⠀⠀⠀⠀and misery upon those that walk this very soil.

⠀⠀⠀⠀a light shrug , careful steps taken as she produces a curved dagger—waving it around slowly. the sound of slaughter in your mind calls to me like a melody.

⠀⠀⠀⠀though the reverence tugs at the corners of orin’s mouth , she still stops before the drow. the tip of her blade tilts minthara’s chin up so their eyes meet. a sharp , deep inhale. i can practically smell how terrified you are. do you miss it .ᐣ