be

this is your sport

but she's not playing a game

She waits, sipping her tea and soaking in the warmth even as her insides feel cold as can be. It’s only been an hour and yet it feels like an eternity – a sensation that she isn’t quite used to (it feels too familiar to the much more frightening potential that she’s pretty sure she’s very deeply in love with Fox and to have him hurting, hurts her in turn, and the prior trauma that if she isn’t there with him, he might not come back like the others). But his form casts over the crest of the hill by the house, and Kiada exhales such a sharp breath of relief she thinks her lungs are aching.

She isn’t in the window either as he approaches, and by the time that Fox steps inside she’s standing right there in the entry way, fluffy and fire warmed clothes at the ready, folded to retain the heat as well as a towel she starts to hand him, as her eyes immediately scan every inch of him to make sure he’s okay. “Clothes off.” She says gently with a little hint of a demand within it.

Let me help you feel better.

“Let’s dry you off and get you into these.” They were some of his favorites, the cream sweater one that Kiada had stolen from his wardrobe quite often and despite being cleaned numerous times, harbored her scent as she starts to help him dry off and get into the clothes.

do not think you are safe because you love her

do not think she won't stain her mouth red with your blood too

KIADA