you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora snorts behind the rock, a breathless, incredulous sound laced with laughter. "Sunshine? Gods, are you talking to me or the snake?" she calls, grinning even as rubble dusts her hair and the walls shiver around them.
He winks, and she lets out a short huff—half warning, half fond exasperation—as he bolts for another cluster of stone. "Oh, don’t worry," she calls after him. "If you die today, I’ll mourn so hard. Black veil, dramatic tears, tell everyone you were a proper gentleman and the best lover I ever had."
As he draws the serpent’s attention, she rises into a half-crouch, waiting—watching. Its coils twist toward him, body sliding like ink across the cave floor, belly briefly exposed in the unnatural light. "C’mon, c’mon…" she whispers. Then she throws. The dagger slices through the air in a gleam of gold and steel, sinking deep into the soft seam of scaled underbelly just as the serpent twists. It lets out a soundless, psychic shriek—like a scream caught in the back of the mind—then rears back, body thrashing violently.
"I think I got it!" Flora shouts, raising one hand and yanking sharply—her blade ripping free from flesh with a wet, satisfying tear. The serpent surges toward Callum one final time, jaws wide and void-light gleaming between its teeth. But halfway through the lunge, it falters—convulses—and collapses mid-strike, its body crumpling in a lifeless, coiling heap at the mercenary’s feet.
He winks, and she lets out a short huff—half warning, half fond exasperation—as he bolts for another cluster of stone. "Oh, don’t worry," she calls after him. "If you die today, I’ll mourn so hard. Black veil, dramatic tears, tell everyone you were a proper gentleman and the best lover I ever had."
As he draws the serpent’s attention, she rises into a half-crouch, waiting—watching. Its coils twist toward him, body sliding like ink across the cave floor, belly briefly exposed in the unnatural light. "C’mon, c’mon…" she whispers. Then she throws. The dagger slices through the air in a gleam of gold and steel, sinking deep into the soft seam of scaled underbelly just as the serpent twists. It lets out a soundless, psychic shriek—like a scream caught in the back of the mind—then rears back, body thrashing violently.
"I think I got it!" Flora shouts, raising one hand and yanking sharply—her blade ripping free from flesh with a wet, satisfying tear. The serpent surges toward Callum one final time, jaws wide and void-light gleaming between its teeth. But halfway through the lunge, it falters—convulses—and collapses mid-strike, its body crumpling in a lifeless, coiling heap at the mercenary’s feet.
