There was a faint pop, like a bubble made of static bursting just over their heads. The smell of ozone twitched in the air. And then—
"Melita! My razor-tongued ray of sunshine!" Vox’s voice crackled into existence like a delighted gasp on an open wavelength. "You do such marvellous work with so little patience! The imagery, the fury, the deeply satisfying threats—chef’s kiss!"
A gentle ripple of static purred through the bench beneath her. "And Astaroth! You towering connoisseur of verse! I loved the razors. So vivid. So personal! What a pleasure to have poets with such bite!"
There was a pause—a grin that could be felt but not seen.
"Double points for ‘hurled and whirled.’ I’ve always liked a poem that can be taken literally and screamed at a sky god during a lightning storm."
A low fizz. A pleased hum. And then, as suddenly as he’d arrived—
Gone.
Except for a faint buzzing in the ink where the words had been scratched out… as if someone was still reading.
"Melita! My razor-tongued ray of sunshine!" Vox’s voice crackled into existence like a delighted gasp on an open wavelength. "You do such marvellous work with so little patience! The imagery, the fury, the deeply satisfying threats—chef’s kiss!"
A gentle ripple of static purred through the bench beneath her. "And Astaroth! You towering connoisseur of verse! I loved the razors. So vivid. So personal! What a pleasure to have poets with such bite!"
There was a pause—a grin that could be felt but not seen.
"Double points for ‘hurled and whirled.’ I’ve always liked a poem that can be taken literally and screamed at a sky god during a lightning storm."
A low fizz. A pleased hum. And then, as suddenly as he’d arrived—
Gone.
Except for a faint buzzing in the ink where the words had been scratched out… as if someone was still reading.
