Two Eyes Cenote [m] Adder

If there is a shade of relief in Eira’s exit, it is short-lived as Eset turns to the man. She stands, breathing hard, absorbing what just happened. Her eyes study Machiavelli, the bite of cold, armed with familiar anger. He hated her. He loathed her. She brought him pain. There is nothing she can say to satisfy an explanation. Standing there she remained part girl, part creature- her toes curling and uncurling with what she knew was the truth.

“You are right about me. I was an animal, once. In my sire’s menagerie. A plaything for his friends. They wouldn't cut my skin, Gods no, we’d be useless to them if we were torn. But I've known torment, the kind that doesn’t leave a mark except on the soul of a person.” Nothing gleams in her form; no hurt, no anger, she takes only an anesthetized step forward, eyes hunting for his lucency through a portal of stone.

“I will do what I must to survive, and so will you. I believe you, Machiavelli.” Her voice casts low, until altogether she fades from view to reappear at the cusp of his pit. An arm reaches for his.

“Give me your hand.”