Silvertip Mountain Big up yourself 'cause you know they don't

pulling closer, "like root want for rain, missy." his manner of speech was unlike any she had ever heard. what mira lacked in desire she made up for in curiosity- and this man made her curious. about himself, and about his potential to provide what she needed. his voice had a rasp like the sound of something being dragged against stone, or like dry grass crackling as it burned. 

he asked if she wanted him back. did she? mira did not want for anyone, she only ever wanted pawns in her game. she wanted his nectar to bring her army to life, not him. but even if this dance did not come naturally to her, she had lived enough years to know how she was meant to play along. she would not fumble her opportunities by wearing her icy heart on her sleeve; a mask of sweetness would have to do.

i do, she cooed back, only you, stranger. voice low, still not particularly feminine in spite of her attempt. i can be yours for a little while if you want this, as long as you will let me go freely once our moment is passed. she was not the girlish sort that men might chase to be their wives, but she preferred not to risk it. if they saw eachother again, she would not flirt or beg for his affections- they would be acquaintances, for she saw little room for romance in her world, and had failed to ever truly understand it.