Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
The pitch of scream rain rang in her ears, and she was silently grateful as Iskra just tucked her in closer, gave a squeeze through hands and fingertips. She responded in kind, leaning into him as if bracing for impact, taking a long, deep breath and glancing upwards at him with a slow smile. Some of the grin was for the notions of glitter, others for regard and appreciation, granting a little wink as Aithne granted her own delight into the measures. Her gaze whipped back to the Ancient, nose wrinkling in rampant approval. “Probably still picking it out of the workshop, at the very least,” imagining the portions of wood and timber all lined up with pockets of sparkling adornments mashed into the frameworks.
But then at all his accusations, she stood as proud as a peacock, the beam of her features wicked, impish, and delighted all at once. “It’s part of the surprise.”
But then at all his accusations, she stood as proud as a peacock, the beam of her features wicked, impish, and delighted all at once. “It’s part of the surprise.”
Melita
