I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
Zairah slipped past Charlie’s arm before she even realized she’d moved, the heavy door yawning wide in her wake. The air inside hit her like a fist—iron, smoke, the faint sour tang of old liquor—and she shivered, teeth pressing down hard on her lower lip.
Her eyes flicked from the obsidian slab to the rows of weapons, but she wasn’t really seeing them. Not with her stomach clenching the way it was, not with the ghost of copper already coating her tongue.
“You—made this with her?” she asked, voice hushed, too quick, stumbling into the silence like she’d tripped on it. “Why would she… why would she give you this?”
She didn’t wait for the answer. Her gaze snapped back to the blood on Charlie’s hand, to the scarlet red droplets falling from her fingers. Her throat clicked when she swallowed.
The words came jagged, her questions stepping on each other. “Do you do it with someone else? What do you feel after? Do you—” she bit down on the word, jaw tightening, but it slipped out anyway, raw as bone. “Do you drink what you spill?”
Her hands twitched at her sides, her tail curled restless, unsure if she wanted to grab something sharp, Charlie’s wrist, or her own mouth to keep the questions from spilling out. She took another step in, eyes glassy in the firelight.
“Does she… want us to?” she pressed, half-whisper, half-demand. “Does Dygra care who the blood goes to…?” Her tongue darted against the back of her teeth.
Her eyes flicked from the obsidian slab to the rows of weapons, but she wasn’t really seeing them. Not with her stomach clenching the way it was, not with the ghost of copper already coating her tongue.
“You—made this with her?” she asked, voice hushed, too quick, stumbling into the silence like she’d tripped on it. “Why would she… why would she give you this?”
She didn’t wait for the answer. Her gaze snapped back to the blood on Charlie’s hand, to the scarlet red droplets falling from her fingers. Her throat clicked when she swallowed.
The words came jagged, her questions stepping on each other. “Do you do it with someone else? What do you feel after? Do you—” she bit down on the word, jaw tightening, but it slipped out anyway, raw as bone. “Do you drink what you spill?”
Her hands twitched at her sides, her tail curled restless, unsure if she wanted to grab something sharp, Charlie’s wrist, or her own mouth to keep the questions from spilling out. She took another step in, eyes glassy in the firelight.
“Does she… want us to?” she pressed, half-whisper, half-demand. “Does Dygra care who the blood goes to…?” Her tongue darted against the back of her teeth.
so i stayed in the darkness with you
Zairah
