Black Morass sun

she is small, insignificant beneath the breadth of his towering form. and yet her words make him pause. she knows her place—good. but it is the way she bows deeper, and the tremble he can smell upon her, that holds his attention.

his lip curls slightly, exposing sharp teeth stained by the years of countless bloodshed.

then you will learn quickly, girl, that i am no one’s footstool. his nostrils flare, his crooked nose lowering as he leans closer, his breath hot against her crown. there is no safety beneath my shadow. no one thrives here without proving themselves useful.

his golden eyes burn as they sweep over her form, the faintest sneer curling at the corner of his lips. i will not be patient with you. you will keep up, or you will drown.