01-25-2022, 12:20 PM
Lillibet
Lillibet does not fear danger, only her inability to deal with it in a world built on magic. The distant cackling from the coyotes remind her that she is nothing more than a blunt-toothed herbivore with an aura that shines like an alabaster angelic beacon ─ come, taste me. Not like the man before her, whose own moonlit aura is supplemented by the control he has of the flame. She knows he could press it to her skin if he wanted to, could let the flames lick at her tender skin while she writhed and begged. Lillibet is no fool ─ she knows she could not weather such an assault and contain any semblance of pride after. No, she is not above begging for her own life.
But that is not to say she lets on to her thoughts, or that she feels intimidated by her new midnight meet-up. She is aware, but confident, as the balls of fire encircle her just as Liesma’s stars had done all those months ago. She still carries with her the arrogance of a princess despite her golden forest home having long-settled beneath the ocean waves, and it’s with that demeanor that she tilts her head playfully to the side as the man disregards her first question. A fake pout finds her lips but for only a moment until it transforms into a smirk the likes of which matches her companion’s.
Fyr. He gifts her two pronunciations, a curious perk of his name, and Lillibet tests them both. “Which do you prefer? Fire or Fear?” Her second question is whispered intimately, audible only in the light of their shared glow, before her own smirk widens. All around them there is silence save for the occasional reminder from the coyotes that they were there, in the distance, to greet anyone who wandered too far from civilization. Periodically, their calls are joined by a howling wind that reminds Lillibet of her luck at finding a fire-wielder on this chilly night.
Fyr reverts to her previous question, catching Lillibet off-guard at the mention of the Pampas. Oceane had spoken often of Obscene and Aela in the presence of her children while preparing to abdicate and leave her crown in the charge of Cheri, though she’d never had the luck of meeting them herself. She wonders if Fyr is related to them, or if his mother is someone who’d simply called the Pampas home beneath the reign of the Fae Prince. “I’m from the South,” she treads lightly, neglecting to provide her own name in the absence of Fyr’s query, “though not from the Pampas. But I haven’t seen many from the kingdom since the quake.” Most notably, her own family. But neither had she seen Cheri, Tarian, or Manny. None of those who’d made up the South as she had known it.
Another shiver rocks the ivory and gold woman, this time fueled by the reminder of the lives that had likely been lost beneath the waves.
