She doesn’t have to talk to her. Shit. They have known each other long enough, no? Being a part of the inner circle gives you a view of the politics that games with being Christian’s family. Fuck. Marielis gets a trickle just by being an old army comrade. “Not talkative today?”

pushes 𝒅͟𝒆͟𝒗͟𝒐͟𝒕͟𝒆͟𝒆 into the wall of a building, her knee pushing between supple, little thighs and making sweet, warm home.

“You hate it when I’m subtle.” Shoulders roll with a frightening ease, giving glimpse to the sleeping beast that slumbers just beneath. “Have you changed your mind?” Fingers push at brown curls, humming lowly. “Or are you back with the freak?”

There’s a snort which falls with far more grace than expected, fingertips dipping within raven curls and grasping with a sharp laziness. “Communal or whatever? How very literate.” It falls with a twisted emphasis. “Her taste for torture isn’t exactly amiable.” Her finger traces.

How effortlessly she catches delicate set of wrists, bringing them to her chest and grinning with dangerous mischief. “You’ve really been paying attention in the classes, I wonder how the Mother would approve.” Shoulders shrug as the younger woman is shoved. “Because I can.”

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