Finn?
"She must think quite highly of you," Finn says softly, drawn up the bed by the arms that fold around him, that strum across his sides and his back. His pulse still pounds in his ears from the snapdragon, and he lifts eyes made dark by drugs and twilight to watch the patterns dance along Sunjata's arms. "They are quite beautiful," he remarks, almost to himself, and fingers reach out to trace along the ink.
Intricate as they are, though, they are nothing compared to the constellations or the story behind them, and Finn raises his eyebrows and glances up to Sunjata. "What is her name?" he asks, emboldened by the liquid fire that roars through his veins. "And I suppose that puts Torchline under Safrin's wing, then? With you as our governor, I mean."
Intricate as they are, though, they are nothing compared to the constellations or the story behind them, and Finn raises his eyebrows and glances up to Sunjata. "What is her name?" he asks, emboldened by the liquid fire that roars through his veins. "And I suppose that puts Torchline under Safrin's wing, then? With you as our governor, I mean."
we all eat lies
when our hearts are hungry
when our hearts are hungry
