The Sunspire he held my hands above my head and i commenced to pray

praimfaya turns from him, for a moment, fussing with the leftover yarrow, having gotten much more than she actually needed. in truth, she isn't sure what to do with it. let it here for him ...if he planned to stay here? or take it to their healer? she only turns back around to face riley, her indecision on what to do with the excess yarrow quickly tucked aside in favor of the words he speaks. rather, the question he asks. you could've killed me.

i could've, praimfaya admits. it wouldn't be her first time taking a life. as if in agreement, she feels a phantom pain in her four kill marks. praimfaya was a warring of extremes: diplomatic and kind ...but also very easily draconian and ruthless. two opposing sides that somehow, in some way, balance one another out

but two strangers once saved my life. they had no allegiance to me or to the pack i ran with at the time, praimfaya pauses. they could've said killing me was a mercy. i was already at death's doorstep. but they didn't. and maybe the part of praimfaya that was kind and diplomatic just wanted to return that karma in some way. even the commander of death can save lives, sometimes.

praimfaya offers him a soft smile. so... what happened? how did this wound happen? how come no one came to look for you? she asks, for she automatically assumes donovan sent no one to find him; putting together the pieces of his flirtations and petnames for her — barely suppressing the shudder of quiet revulsion at the thought — and her packmate's question of being 'one of donovan's sluts' that their grandmaster was more worried about his next bedroom conquest then actually running his pack and looking out for his members.