Gilded Bay Everything Left to Hold Onto

andr butchered the fish. iaghe watched.

the winterborne's gaze flitted in small tics of movement. his teeth shredding the pale meat. the angles of him as he bent to do so, making himself vulnerable before her. 

the prospect of an attack from the wildling was laughable and yet, it was a marvel he could do such a thing.

a piece was launched in her direction, startling the islander from her vigilance. a ripple coursed along her skin, not unlike catflesh against a touch of the spine. 

iaghe's tongue -- a patchwork of ivory and ebony -- flashed along similarly speckled chops. still, the woman did not move. 

her gaze flew back to him. 

she desperately wanted to eat. 

she could not understand any reason he would lure her closer that did not sound a broken, screaming film within her skull. 

she was locked in place there, unable to steal forward and unable to look away for fear he would move as she did.