The thread of water tilts her face upward, towards him, and she does not resist. The black amethyst of her eye, glinting like two violet stars in the gloom, do not leave him. Whatever shock he may have felt has apparently faded, and he places himself well within her personal space. His breath, hot and unpleasant, crosses her cheek and still, she does not squirm.
"Oh," she sighs, wanting and sultry, "I'm melting under your compliments."
Her voice drips with sarcasm, but her gaze remains locked on his as he holds her face in his liquid grasp. Adrenaline washes over her deliciously, singeing her heart in a way she hasn't felt in years. But even so, she knows what the beast she plays with is capable of, and she isn't about the let him get the better of her if she can help it.
A thrum of light reverberates across her skin once again (a reminder, a warning) and she shudders in his grasp. The tingling power of it had always made her feel better than any love could, she assumes, because she had never had the chance to test her theory. The water which steadies her face is tinted a sickly yellow-purple as the light shines through it, illuminating the floating sickness and debris it holds.
Why she warns him instead of putting a spear of light through his chest she can't be sure, the adrenaline high beyond the point of fully thinking things out. She does remember the last time she killed a man it didn't go as planned, or maybe it's partially because she's... having fun.
But either way, she reminds herself, If he stays this close there would be little he could do to avoid a blast traveling at the speed of light.
And she smiles.
I'm not a girl,
I'm a storm with skin
![[Image: celest_by_cowgirlconrad-dcolc1l.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/bc93/f/2018/277/3/d/celest_by_cowgirlconrad-dcolc1l.png)