Work Text:
A gift. The needle drumming loudly, puncturing her skin, depositing clouds of blue ink under tender flesh. His fingers peeling off her clothes, looking at what she's done.
A gift; a brush in his hand combing through long tresses, his timbre voice in her ears. Delicate fingers braiding hair.
His trust in her hands that have caused so much pain, another gift, he lets her hold the vial to his eye and he never doubts her.
A gift, she brings him, the orb glittering between slim fingers and painted nails. She's done well, he tells her, and she feels it.
This gift they have together, his child quickening in her womb before her next name day rolls around, his blessing rolling around inside her.
For all the things he gives her, he never asks for a return, for equal measures in this game they play at.
For Silco, Jinx is his gift.