kelp_wrangler
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“My humble apologies, Imperator,” Hysilens says, her voice rasping unpleasantly—still so unaccustomed to the human tongue. She clears her throat, pressing a hand to her chest. “To see that fish in the blackness where the sun’s rays dare not shine… it is as a star; radiant in the depths of the sea. Not unlike your blazing light, which guided me to shore.”
Cerydra takes a long sip of her glass, only to fall silent. Golden ichor drips from the corner of her mouth, and Hysilens resists the urge to reach out, and…
“Were you truly so allured?” Cerydra murmurs, shattering the silent moment almost off-handedly—which is strange—no action of the Imperator's is impromptu in the slightest. She is an angler, a chessmaster. She is patient, composed, and she does not err lightly.
But Cerydra blinks as she looks to Hysilens, as if she too is struck with momentary surprise at her own tongue. Her breath is sweet, and warm against her siren’s scales. And Hysilens nods.
“Yes,” she whispers, for none but her light to hear. “I was.”
"Twist the knife, Helektra."
Bookmarked by kelp_wrangler
03 Oct 2025