Pann
catch me barking up a tree, smile wide as money green
The fire grazing my cheek draws a grin that curls slow and sharp, heat licking across my skin like a lover’s sigh. Her laughter rings through the cavern and I lean back to drink it in, positively drunk on the sound. It’s the kind of laugh that makes the world feel smaller and more interesting all at once—like I’ve already won a game I haven’t started playing.
She forgives my ignorance with such grace that I feel nearly guilty for it. Nearly. Truth is, I don’t quite remember how old I am. Old enough that stars have been born and burned out in the time I’ve spent asleep. Old enough that hearing her speak of gods being barely housebroken makes me wonder if we ever brushed shoulders in the belly of time and simply forgot. I find myself reverent. Genuinely so. And that’s rare.
“Lucky us, indeed,” I purr, raising an invisible glass with a wink, her mock-toast met with one of my own.
When her gaze drapes over me, sultry and unrepentant, I laugh—loud and unabashed. “Sounds like something someone would charge a fortune for in a cursed boutique. ‘Wrinkled Vest of Eternal Slumber,’ only three-thousand and your soul on layaway.’”
But when she speaks of tolerance, I listen. My smile twitches sideways at the mention of bloodlust, and I drag a hand through my hair with a long-suffering groan.
“Cannibalism,” I echo, sighing dramatically. “They never forget that one time, do they? I swear, a few villagers go missing—suddenly you’re the pariah of the century.” I raise a hand in half-hearted defense. “I only indulge when the opportunity is too exquisite to pass up. I just… may have gotten a bit carried away back then. Tempers were high. Wine was spilled. Entrails were involved. You know how it goes.”
Her offer catches me, bright and sharp, and I step closer like a man drawn to warmth he hasn’t felt in a thousand years—perhaps I haven’t. Her silks glimmer like flame given form, and I can’t help myself—my fingers reach, brushing lightly along the hem where firelight dances at the edge. My eyes flick up, flashing with hunger and amusement.
“My dear,” I murmur, voice a low thread of velvet, “given the state of this ensemble…” I flick a piece of shredded vest between us, letting it fall. “...I daresay it’s worthy of outright discarding. Don’t you think?”
I tilt my head, lips parting in a grin that bares my fangs back at her. “How scandalous would it be for an Ancient to arrive at these Hallowed Grounds wearing nothing but the blessings of a priestess?”
She forgives my ignorance with such grace that I feel nearly guilty for it. Nearly. Truth is, I don’t quite remember how old I am. Old enough that stars have been born and burned out in the time I’ve spent asleep. Old enough that hearing her speak of gods being barely housebroken makes me wonder if we ever brushed shoulders in the belly of time and simply forgot. I find myself reverent. Genuinely so. And that’s rare.
“Lucky us, indeed,” I purr, raising an invisible glass with a wink, her mock-toast met with one of my own.
When her gaze drapes over me, sultry and unrepentant, I laugh—loud and unabashed. “Sounds like something someone would charge a fortune for in a cursed boutique. ‘Wrinkled Vest of Eternal Slumber,’ only three-thousand and your soul on layaway.’”
But when she speaks of tolerance, I listen. My smile twitches sideways at the mention of bloodlust, and I drag a hand through my hair with a long-suffering groan.
“Cannibalism,” I echo, sighing dramatically. “They never forget that one time, do they? I swear, a few villagers go missing—suddenly you’re the pariah of the century.” I raise a hand in half-hearted defense. “I only indulge when the opportunity is too exquisite to pass up. I just… may have gotten a bit carried away back then. Tempers were high. Wine was spilled. Entrails were involved. You know how it goes.”
Her offer catches me, bright and sharp, and I step closer like a man drawn to warmth he hasn’t felt in a thousand years—perhaps I haven’t. Her silks glimmer like flame given form, and I can’t help myself—my fingers reach, brushing lightly along the hem where firelight dances at the edge. My eyes flick up, flashing with hunger and amusement.
“My dear,” I murmur, voice a low thread of velvet, “given the state of this ensemble…” I flick a piece of shredded vest between us, letting it fall. “...I daresay it’s worthy of outright discarding. Don’t you think?”
I tilt my head, lips parting in a grin that bares my fangs back at her. “How scandalous would it be for an Ancient to arrive at these Hallowed Grounds wearing nothing but the blessings of a priestess?”
you should mind your business, but my business is the place to be
