Moonspear champagne

She was surprised by his escape, and it showed in a very displeased and disappointed scowl. She'd been pleasantly drunk off of his contact, and having it ripped from her was sobering in a way that a cold bucket of water could be. The smug smirk was not missed by Hydra, who was sore over the abrupt change, and Hydra contemplated her next move. 

The Beta recalled the words of her sisters; that Dirge was a bit of a flirt. Hearing he flirted with other ladies that were not her, even if they were her mirror images, caused Hydra's typically flirtatious nature toward him to pause. Even with the pleasant, peachy haze surrounding her, Hydra wanted to be wooed and won over. Some snuggles may have dulled the edge of her blade temporarily, but as he tore away from her she was quick to remember he might be considering other prospects. 

The idea made her blood boil. Hydra was quite possessive. Even if she had not officially decided what or who it was she wanted, she (unfairly) wanted to be One and Only, and to be doted on. 

Well, his other potential ladies, she imagined, would rise to the occasion and chase him—but not her! Hydra rose slowly to all fours. She was a hunter, and quite interested in pursuit, but before she pursued any man Hydra would not let herself be made a fool of. She had made that error with Rian, and he had disappeared. Maybe he and Dirge played the same game, a game that Hydra only realized here and now existed. Dirge seemed more upfront than that, but then again, hadn't Rian? 

With her own muddled mind, Hydra turned on her heel and attempted to strut away in a way that Alya, she, and Lyra had practiced many-a-time. They called it the 'make them watch'—Alya had cultivated it, and to be sure, it was something. One of those walks where your hips swayed, hips they were growing into now, and your stride was long and exaggerated and yet seemed entirely natural. It was a card Hydra played with the singular thought that he would, in turn, be reluctant to let her leave, that he would do some debonair move to make her stay a while longer—that he would convince her of something solid to make her linger, not that she knew what solid meant.