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Pulling back the curtains to Narinder's cabin, the old Bishop stumbled in, face flushed and gait unstable. One too many drinks, and a mind full of regrets, left her bitter, to say the least.
"We were happy once, don't you remember?" She spat, gripping at the curtain and leaning against the wall.
"Of course I remember. Sister. There wasn't much else to think about in my cage of your making." He retorted, not even bothering to look at her, whilst laying out on his bed. "Why are you here?"
With that question, she took of the bandage that covered the crude gash that was once her throat, discarding the bloody rag onto his floor. "I wanted you to see what you did to me, up close."
An irritated growl emerged from the feline, hackles standing up on the back of his neck. "Go to bed. I'm not in the mood to entertain your shit tonight."
She stumbled forward, towards him, though lost her footing shortly before where he lay. He didn't even think before he shot up to catch her. Though quickly looked away, he daren't let her know he still care.
"You miss me. Don't deny it. You miss what we had." Her voice growing hoarse with overuse, yet it held a cadence all too familiar to him, one she used when she wanted something...
"It doesn't matter what the fuck we had. You know the lamb forbi-"
And with that, he was cut off, pulled towards her. Bleeding red down his white tunic, as she pressed her lips against his. This passion is not one they had shared in over a millennia, yet now it was a shared once more.
He gripped her arms to push her away, yet couldn't manage to, closing his eyes and melting into his old memory. He knew neither of them would dare to talk about this in the morning.
Though right now, he wouldn't ask for anything else...