Luneshale Pass another odyssey

@Samirseti

the brazen pass stretched wide and unforgiving, its jagged peaks clawing at the gray sky. the air here was thin, sharp, and cold—a fitting companion to the silence saya sought. she moved through the rough terrain with a practiced ease, her lean frame navigating the rocky crags and uneven paths without hesitation.

she scanned the horizon, not for prey or foe but for space. space to think, to breathe, to exist without the constant pull of expectation or intrigue. the pass offered her that—a quiet reprieve from the tangled webs she so often spun.

the wind whipped through her dark fur, carrying with it the faint scent of distant snow. saya paused atop a narrow ridge, her sharp gaze sweeping over the barren landscape. the solitude here was profound, almost suffocating, but she welcomed it like an old friend. she lowered herself to her haunches, her tail curling loosely around her as she stared out into the vast expanse.

here, in the heart of the brazen pass, she could be just herself—no masks, no games, no pretense. just saya. and for now, that was enough.

The sound was faint, almost imperceptible against the keening wind that swept through the pass—a soft scrape of rock, the whisper of displaced gravel. But it was enough. A shadow moved above, framed against the jagged peaks like a dark wraith, before it slithered down with eerie grace.

Samirseti emerged from the ledge behind her, his movements fluid and deliberate, each step placed with predatory precision. The cold air seemed to cling to him, wrapping his golden-black form in a veil of quiet menace. His golden eyes glinted, catching what little light the gray sky offered.

His tongue flicked across his lips—a slow, deliberate motion—before he broke the quiet with a voice like a low purr. “Well, well,” he purred, his voice low and edged with mischief. “Look who has come out to play.”

saya’s ears twitched at the sound of his voice, sharp and grating against the quiet she’d sought. her gaze snapped toward him, narrowing as she took in his lanky frame, the golden accents that caught the dull light of the pass. he looked like trouble, the kind that swaggered in uninvited.

you’re a little too late for the show, she drawled, her voice laced with a biting edge. unless you think creeping around like that counts as an entrance.

she rose to her paws, movements deliberate and unhurried, her tail flicking behind her in a gesture that was neither welcoming nor dismissive. she didn’t bother hiding the way her eyes lingered on him, measuring, weighing.

what do you want? the question fell flat, devoid of any real curiosity, as if she already knew whatever answer he gave would fail to impress her. her gaze was steady, daring him to offer something worth her time—or to slink back into the shadows where he belonged.

Samirseti’s smile didn’t falter under her sharp gaze. If anything, it widened, a flash of teeth that feigned a taste for power. Her words were a blade, but he’d danced around sharper ones before. Trouble, indeed.

“Oh, but I do enjoy a finale,” he countered smoothly, vox a low purr. “It's always better than the main act.” He took a step closer, unhurried, his golden eyes glinting with amusement as he let her measure him. He didn’t mind the scrutiny—he welcomed it, thrived on it.

He was practically a peacock beneath her scrutinizing glower, putting his best feathers on display for the woman. The cadence with which she spoke was a cruel melody upon his tall, pointed ears and Samir found them swiveling inwards, seeking out more.

“Oh, it doesn't matter what I want, sutenet.” he continued, his tone shifting to one of mock curiosity, “What do you want?”

He deflected her blade of words, sending them right back at her throat.

saya’s sharp tongue hovered just behind her teeth, ready to lash again when the scent of him hit her—sharp, familiar, infuriating. her lips parted slightly, and her golden gaze narrowed into something more...calculating.

her nose twitched once, twice, and her demeanor shifted like a storm breaking. the tension in her shoulders slackened, and she blinked, almost in disbelief, before a wicked grin split her face.

wait, she drawled, stepping closer, her eyes scanning his onyx-and-gold figure with renewed interest. you’re the one who slept with arslan, aren’t you?

she let her voice curl around his name, slow and teasing, but her gaze was fixed on him like a hawk. her grin widened into something almost manic, and for the first time, there was genuine amusement behind her sharp tongue. he didn’t mention you were so...fancy. her laughter came, dry and cutting. guess you’ve got a type.

Samirseti’s smirk deepened, his golden eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as her words reached him. The mention of Nefer—now, Arslan—sent a ripple through him, not of shame but of something darker, sharper—possessiveness wrapped in indulgence. He tilted his head slightly, allowing her laughter to cut the air like shards of glass, his expression one of careful amusement.

“Fancy?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly, his voice dripping with mock offense. “I suppose there are worse things to be called.” His golden gaze locked onto hers, a gleam of playful danger igniting within them. “And you’re quite perceptive, aren’t you, neferu? I’d almost be impressed.”

He allowed her to step closer, his tail flicking lazily behind him, the movement slow and deliberate. Her laughter, sharp and cutting, danced on the air, but Samir didn’t flinch. Instead, he met it head-on, his grin unwavering. “Yes,” he said smoothly, his tone carrying a certain pride. “I am the one. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised... word often spreads like wildfire. As for Arslan—he has his charms, but you...”

He sighs, letting his head tilt as he examines her. Taking a step forwards, he resumes his circle of her, movements slow and fluid, his golden eyes never leaving hers. His voice dropped into a purr, heavy with taunt and implication.

“You’re far more interesting.” At the end of the day, Samir was only a man. The allure of any body was feverish, and yet, that of a woman's was much more appealing. His palate refined.

saya’s gaze followed him as he circled, sharp and calculating, like a predator sizing up competition rather than prey. she raised a single brow, unimpressed by his theatrics, before letting out a scoff that broke the tension with all the grace of a snapped bowstring.

interesting? her tone was a drawl, unimpressed yet tinged with sharp amusement. don’t think for a second i’ll settle for being second best, hermano. the word dripped from her tongue like honey laced with venom, mocking him with the same flourish he used to decorate his words.

she turned slightly, meeting his golden gaze with a fire of her own. whatever... arrangement you had with arslan, keep me out of it. i’m not here to stroke egos, least be sloppies after arslan.

her voice was steel wrapped in silk, her sharp words paired with a casual flick of her tail as she dismissed his circling. if you’re looking for someone to chase, keep moving. i don’t waste my time on leftovers.

Samirseti’s smirk didn’t falter as she spoke, her words biting and sharp, designed to wound. If she thought she could chase him off so easily, she clearly didn’t know who she was dealing with. He tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming as he soaked in her defiance like it was fuel.

“Ah,” he purred, drawing out the sound as if savoring her challenge, “so quick to spew your malice."

He stepped closer, his confidence unwavering, his presence impossible to ignore. “Arslan?” His tone turned dismissive, a flick of his tail punctuating his indifference. “He was nothing more than a distraction—a momentary amusement, easily forgotten. Do you think such an urchin holds a place in my mind now?” His golden eyes met hers, full of mischief and intent.

His lithe, strong body swivels; reversing to come to a stop before her. His head reaches forwards, tempting fate, forcing her to look him in the face once more. “No, he was just that—a fleeting indulgence. Hardly worth your attention... or mine.” His words are like molten honey as he speaks, a purr of grandeur hardly unavoidable.

Samir began to circle her again, slower this time, deliberate. His movements were fluid, each step a dance designed to press her, to provoke. “But you,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, silkier, “you’re different, aren’t you? All fire and teeth, eager to show you’re above it all. And yet... here you are... with the likes of me.” His words lilt, grow stronger, breathy; all in efforts to spark any sort of emotion from the cold, calloused woman.

saya narrowed her eyes at his words, her hesitance remaining but softening at the edges. he was trouble, but not the kind she couldn’t handle. perhaps his boldness amused her, or maybe she was simply curious.

you're a talker, she muttered, her tone laced with faint exasperation. she allowed a small smirk to tug at the corner of her lips as she studied him, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. what's your name, then? or do you prefer i just call you arslan's lover?

her words were teasing, but the curiosity behind them was genuine. she wasn’t ready to let her guard down entirely, but she could at least enjoy the game.

Samirseti’s smirk deepened, his golden eyes glinting as he took a measured step closer. “Samirseti,” he said simply, his voice smooth and deliberate. “That is my name, for those who care to ask.”

He let the words settle, studying her with quiet interest. There was something in the sharpness of her gaze, the subtle shift in her stance, that intrigued him more than her teasing words.

She was guarded, yes, but there was an edge of curiosity there, and he wasn’t one to ignore an open door—no matter how narrow.

“And you are?” he asked, his tone steady, neither demanding nor overly casual. His tail flicked idly behind him as he watched her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

saya's sharp gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, the hint of a smirk curling her lips as she appraised the man before her. his confidence, though grating, was undeniable—perhaps even intriguing in a way she wouldn’t openly admit.

sayanthe, she offered, her tone smooth and deliberate, matching his measured words. a slight pause followed, as if weighing the decision, before she added with a flick of her tail, but you can call me saya.

her name was a gift she rarely gave, but there was something about samirseti—lanky and golden-eyed—that made her curious. even if she wouldn’t show it outright.

so, she began, tilting her head slightly, her smirk deepening, do you always make it a habit of circling women like prey, or am i just lucky today? her tone carried that edge of teasing, sharp but not without its own allure. she wonders if he did this tango with arslan.

“Saya,” he repeated smoothly, his voice low and rich, carrying just the faintest hint of mock reverence.

He stepped closer, his movements deliberate and slow, his tail swaying behind him like the flick of a blade. “Circling?” he mused, his tone teasing as he let the word linger. “Prey implies I intend to devour you, neferu.” The endearment slipped from his tongue like silk, calculated and deliberate. “I simply enjoy the dance.”

He let his gaze sweep over her, lingering a fraction longer than propriety might allow, before meeting her eyes again. “As for luck,” he continued, his voice dipping into something richer, more suggestive, “let us not cheapen this with such a word. Luck is random, without purpose. This?”

He gestured lightly between them with a flick of his tail, his smirk unwavering. “This is deliberate.”

saya tilted her head, a sly smile curling on her lips as she watched samirseti with a gaze that spoke volumes. deliberate, she echoed, her tone smooth yet edged, like a blade wrapped in silk. well, if we’re dancing, samirseti, i hope you’re ready to follow my lead.

she took a step closer, closing the space he had left, her movements fluid, deliberate, and undeniably confident. her eyes locked onto his, a spark of mischief lighting them like fire catching on dry kindling. devour me? she hummed, the words laced with amusement. that implies you could catch me first.

her tail flicked behind her, a calculated motion that mirrored his own, but her stance spoke of dominance, a predator toying with another. luck or not, i play to win, she murmured, her voice dipping into something richer, a challenge wrapped in velvet. and i never let someone else write the rules of my game.

her gaze didn’t waver, even as her smile widened ever so slightly. but if you’d like to try, i’ll indulge you—for now.

Samirseti’s grin widened into something feral, his golden eyes narrowing with a glint of amusement and challenge. Her confidence, her poise—it was like kindling to his fire, stoking a hunger that burned beneath his polished exterior. She stepped closer, bold and unyielding, and Samir welcomed it, standing his ground with the ease of a predator savoring the game.

“Follow your lead?” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, curling through the air between them. “Neferu, I don’t follow—I claim.” He leaned forward slightly, his towering frame exuding an effortless dominance, though his expression carried a playful edge, his grin still sharp and wicked.

Her words lit something darker in him, and he tilted his head, his golden-black fur catching the muted light as he stepped toward her, matching her deliberate pace with his own.

A laugh came.

“Very well,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, the edges of his words smooth as polished stone. “I’ll follow your lead, neferu.” The endearment rolled off his tongue like honey. His smirk curled at the edges. "A conqueror knows when to let the queen take her throne.”

fade?