Redsand Canyon she held her pose

renard lacked the same thoughtful consideration that praimfaya was clearly giving to the water. as a metaphor for the saints, useless and pretty wasn’t so wildly offbase, at least. they made a lot of noise and spectacle and failed to do anything with it.

and spectacle could be satisfying. but it needed to have teeth. saint or not, they were better than that. certainly praimfaya was as well.

they couldn’t say they weren’t curious as to her further thoughts, but by now they were more focused on her shoulder, and the blood that splashed over their teeth when they cut down.

she came around in a blur of silver, her jaws snapping along their own shoulder. pain drove a spiking arc up their back, a warning acknowledged and then brushed aside; their head twisted in turn, grasping for a hold of her leg to pull her off balance.