your scars are my favorite part

KIADA

There’s something about him that surprises her – and it’s the way he doesn’t shrink from her gaze, from the way she looks at him. Is he preening under the attention? She can’t tell, but two can play at this game. And when she offers him her wolfish smile, toothy and dangerous – a smile that screams blood and wolf howls and a deep kind of darkness that will take some time to see for the right price – and he offers his own, he’s already alright in her books. Her smile softens slightly as the glass is pushed to her and she lets her eyes drift along him once more before she looks toward the glass with interest.

A pale hand with a small amount of scarring reaches for the glass, and her iceberg gaze slide up to his freckled face (and gods is she a sucker for freckles) when he comments on her ocean eyes. She wants to snort, deciding that her eyes might be closer to an ocean when the storms rage above and lightning cracks the surface. Instead, she lifts the glass and swirls it briefly before taking a deep sip (perhaps a mistake, perhaps not), and she sets the glass back down to meet the table.

The burn is strong, but the drink is surprisingly pleasant. Far more pleasant than the straight strong alcohol she had consumed with Amalia, Jigano, and Deimos – and proceeded to get incredibly drunk off just a few shots of that – but it burns about the same. And she wonders if he’ll move on when she’s buzzed and feeling far better than she did when she walked in. “Delicious.” She says after a moment, the word unclear if it’s about the drink or her view of him. She tilts her head and looks back toward the glass with a raised brow. “What did you put in it? Or do you keep secrets?” She asked, another small coy smile playing at her lips.

your girl is a soldier

and her mouth tastes like blood,

dust, fire, home, and battlefield