Lion Head Mesa I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving; I'm your little scarlet, starlet

A turn, a look. A brush of blush desert sky across a raven’s silver eyes.

“Say it,” it is a command that comes softly, but a command nonetheless.

She meant to conceal from him but she should have known, and she should have remembered the terms of an agreement sealed in blood. She is not alive and unhappy with him, she’s alive and stuck with it.