Qeya River draw a line in the sand

he watches her sidestep him, her irritation painting every step, every flick of her ears, and it only fuels the fire in his chest. her retort about the world’s humor earns a smirk, one that tugs at the corner of his mouth in that infuriating way that seems etched into his features.

twisted? sure, he rumbles, his tone quieter now, but no less gruff. but i think the world just has a thing for making us deal with shit we’d rather not. his gaze lingers on her for a beat too long, something unreadable flashing behind crimson eyes before he shifts his focus to the winding river ahead.

besides, he continues after a pause, voice low and almost thoughtful, though the edge never quite leaves it, if it weren’t for that twisted sense of humor, you’d be stuck with someone boring.

the grin returns, sharp as ever, but there’s something faintly softer in the way he carries himself now, a subtle loosening of the tension that had gripped him since they’d crossed paths again.