Noah
Noah did not reach for a weapon, having several to choose from within his skin. Prickling at her words, the Sentinel stepped out from behind a low ridge of iron-veined quartz, boots peeling free of the sticky ground.
The heat here pressed close to the skin, not searing, but insistent, like a held breath. His pale eyes found her—horns catching the low light, the remnants of a flower wilting in her grasp. Even with her hair pale instead of ink blank, he knew her. “I’m not here to give you a reason,” he said evenly, "but you've never needed much prodding, from what I can remember." He said, glacier eyes narrowing on her.
His gaze flicked briefly to the crystals, to the way they pulsed, almost like a heartbeat buried in stone. Tanau’s influence lingered in every shimmer and scent of blood and heat. Had she bee nsomene else, he may have given his justification for being in such a place--but the memory of her throwing her blade towards Deimos instead made his jaw feather.
The heat here pressed close to the skin, not searing, but insistent, like a held breath. His pale eyes found her—horns catching the low light, the remnants of a flower wilting in her grasp. Even with her hair pale instead of ink blank, he knew her. “I’m not here to give you a reason,” he said evenly, "but you've never needed much prodding, from what I can remember." He said, glacier eyes narrowing on her.
His gaze flicked briefly to the crystals, to the way they pulsed, almost like a heartbeat buried in stone. Tanau’s influence lingered in every shimmer and scent of blood and heat. Had she bee nsomene else, he may have given his justification for being in such a place--but the memory of her throwing her blade towards Deimos instead made his jaw feather.
Am I a prisoner to instincts or do my thoughts just live as free
And detached as boats to the dock?
And detached as boats to the dock?
