Serpent Lake הזר

only one way to find out, yeah?
a laugh purls from deep in izaiah's chest, almost taunting with its graceful, dark notes. it's as if she is transfixed by him. why him, he did not understand — if one were to ask him, he would likely call himself a boring, disheveled boy who hardly even qualifies as a man.
izaiah, the spindly, shell-shocked son. izaiah, the last remaining child who had taken part in the eucharist. izaiah, the boy with clipped wings. izaiah who came to pharaoh only with bags beneath his eyes and a tender hope that she will deem him worthy.
but she, this nameless girl, does not know this. that story does not matter to her. this both excites and terrifies him.
if she will not name herself, he will have to think of one for her. 'eynyym m'evshnvt, he whispers it, the pseudonym for the mystery girl, and where his palm once was at her jaw is now a cold and empty space. are you gonna keep messing with me? i'm more than happy to stand here and waste your time.