"It wasn't a criticism," Dahlia says airily - as if anything she said could be taken as such by the force of nature standing before her. "I have missed our little talks, is all." It's an understatement and they both know it, for there aren't really words to express the magnetic pull she feels towards Dorian, the way she craves what they had once been - little more than energy, connected in ways their new bodies are incapable of replicating.
Inclining her head, graceful in the acceptance of his praise (externally, anyway), Dahlia shakes the remaining water from her fingertips and links her arms casually behind her back. "I am content with King's End as it is for now, especially if Sunjata continues to join these little adventures to our island." The second she reveals her hand, after all, she doubts the Flood will be invited on any future ventures.
As for the sword, her smile is no less predatory for its girlishess, and she gazes back out across the rolling steam of the hotsprings. "Any move I make is watched by these people," she says - such is the role she has chosen to play. "Much as my fingers itch for it... it would make more sense for someone else to go. If you don't wish to reveal yourself yet, perhaps Pierce would enjoy the challenge...?"
Were it not for the fact that there's more to discuss, Dorian might have found himself with the Reaper draped all over him heedless of the consequences, Dahlia taking a slow and steadying breath in the humid air between them.
"We have lost our hold on the Oerwoud," she says softly. "And from Vox's latest broadcast... you are aware of what he has done? That he is awake?"
Inclining her head, graceful in the acceptance of his praise (externally, anyway), Dahlia shakes the remaining water from her fingertips and links her arms casually behind her back. "I am content with King's End as it is for now, especially if Sunjata continues to join these little adventures to our island." The second she reveals her hand, after all, she doubts the Flood will be invited on any future ventures.
As for the sword, her smile is no less predatory for its girlishess, and she gazes back out across the rolling steam of the hotsprings. "Any move I make is watched by these people," she says - such is the role she has chosen to play. "Much as my fingers itch for it... it would make more sense for someone else to go. If you don't wish to reveal yourself yet, perhaps Pierce would enjoy the challenge...?"
Were it not for the fact that there's more to discuss, Dorian might have found himself with the Reaper draped all over him heedless of the consequences, Dahlia taking a slow and steadying breath in the humid air between them.
"We have lost our hold on the Oerwoud," she says softly. "And from Vox's latest broadcast... you are aware of what he has done? That he is awake?"
let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world
let me wrap my teeth around the world
