There was joy to be had in watching the way her poison affects him. In watching the way that it nearly takes him to the knees—nearly takes him out completely. It’s all she can do to not purr with pleasure, to keep her face lax and the emotion bleeding out of it. To listen as he walks right to the brink of death, the place where she had pushed him, and then walks slowly away from it—with her help, as well.
How she controls all the strings, even when lying on the ground like this.
Her breathing is ragged and hoarse, her throat aching with the effort, and when she stirs and watches him come back, rising to his feet and staggering, she keeps her face steady. “I’m,” her voice is shaky and thin, as though exhausted from the effort, and she closes her eyes as if to steady herself. “I’m okay.” A brave front, as though death too had come knocking for her door and she had not been the one wearing its hood.
“Exhausted,” she lies, rising to her feet and then crashing down. She trembles and shakes, a single tear on her cheek as she lets her armored head rest on the ground, sobs racking through her. “I thought I was dying,” another lie, each one coming easier than the last. “I thought I was going to die here all alone.”
She looks up, light brown eyes wide as she considers him.
“But you found me—you came looking for me.” Her chest heaves. “You were looking for me.”
you and I nursing on a poison that never stung
@[lumineer]