Rhyiona Week 2023 Day Two

Rhyiona Week 2023 Day Two

Prompt: Trick/Treat

Spaces In Between

“You want to kiss me so badly it makes you look stupid,” Fiona taunted the company man. 

Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked an eyebrow as she gave Rhys an arrogant smirk. Despite her outward appearance of imperious confidence, uncertainty roiled beneath the surface. 

Why did I just say that?

She had to admit it wasn’t her most witty rejoinder. But now that it was out in the air between them, there was no turning back.

“What?” he scoffed. “That’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. But coming from you, I’d expect nothing less.” With a disparaging wave of his hand, he turned away and continued down the hall.

“Hey,” she snapped, irritation flaring at his abrupt dismissal. 

Usually, there was something so satisfying about their verbal sparring matches. Most of the time she had no trouble talking circles around this corporate dork. This time, however, she was admittedly off her game. 

I’m just tired. That’s it. 

They had been going nonstop since they’d opened the vault and she could probably benefit greatly from a nap. Fortified in that contrivance, she’d almost persuaded herself that her comment had, in no way, been influenced by her recent revelations as to the depth of her feelings for this goofy stringbean of a man. 

Running to catch up to his impossibly long stride, she rounded his shoulder. He halted as she stood defiantly in front of him. Stubborn to a fault, she poked him in the chest and doubled down on her ridiculous accusation. 

“It’s true. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.” 

“And how is that?” he asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Like I’m trying to test out the saying ‘If looks could kill’? Because if that’s what you’re referring to, then you might actually be right for a change.”

Despite his words, Fiona caught the subtle pink hue to his cheeks. Rallied by the possibility that she might be onto something, she ignored him and continued, “I always thought it was Sasha that I should be worried about but I was wrong. It was me you were interested in, wasn’t it?” 

Enjoying the look of shock that flashed over his expression, she was gratified to learn she had touched a nerve. Before he could deny it, she hurried on. “You may not want to admit it, Rhys, but I can see it written all over your face.” 

His eyes narrowed as his mouth fell into a pout. Attraction zipped through her at that stupid little pull of his lips. 

“I bet you think about me all the time. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you —” Her barbs were cut short as he rolled his eyes and tried to move around her once more. Instinctively, she snagged his elbow as he passed. “I’m not done with you,” she blurted, even though she knew she should just let him go. 

“Enough,” he growled, his voice ripe with aggravation. Swiftly, he stepped into her space. She was forced to retreat back in order to look him in the eye. The expression on his face shifted, becoming predatory, as he realized he had her on the defense. He took another step. 

Withdrawing further, her back hit the wall of the corridor. Before she could twist away, his right hand met the wall beside her head with a click of metal on metal, his left quick to follow on the opposite side. He had effectively trapped her, crowding into her space without touching her. 

A strange awakening occurred within her at his proximity; her pulse kicking up. She frowned as she tried to stamp down the budding arousal that unfurled in the pit of her stomach. 

Curiously, he was quiet as he searched her face. His gaze was hypnotic; the captivating contrast of his mismatched eyes pinning her in place.

“What is it you want from me, Fiona?” he finally asked. “Do you want me to tell you it’s true?”

She blinked in shock, shaken by the question. Her heart skipped a beat as her mind raced to catch up. Wholly unprepared for this turn in events, she remained silent. 

“Do you want me to tell you that I think about you?” he continued, “That you’re constantly on my mind?” 

The words rang in her ears. To every question he posed, her heart answered with a wordless aching yes. 

To her chagrin, she realized she was blushing, her cheeks prickling with heat. His expression softened as he gazed at her. With a tender brush of his thumb, he caressed the apple of her cheek, tracing the rosy flush. The chill of his touch against her overheated skin caused her breath to catch.

“Do you want me to tell you that when I think about you, I sometimes imagine you like this?” 

His voice rasped against her frayed nerves, desire making her sensitive to the subtle gravel in his tone. 

Agitated by her reaction, she fought to regain some semblance of control from the storm that raged within her. No matter the truth, no matter the accuracy of his queries, she remained mistrustful. She was terrified he was just goading her on in some attempt to entrap her.

He’s got to be up to something. It’s a trick… Right?

Composing herself outwardly, she raised a brow. “Like what,” she quipped, “Quiet?” 

He smiled and another stone in her defense crumbled. “Something like that,” he answered softly.

She opened her mouth to speak but he stopped her with a finger to her lips before she could utter a word. 

“Ah, ah,” he admonished gently, that devastating smile spreading wider across his stupidly handsome face. “You know what your problem is, Fiona?” As his finger was still held to her lips, her only response was to narrow her eyes at him. “You just don’t know when to stop talking.”

Her snarky comeback died unspoken as he took that same forbidding finger and ran it gently over the sensitive surface of her lower lip. Blood thundered in her ears as her pulse slammed into high gear. Tracking down over her chin, the tips of his fingers trailed the length of her neck.

The last vestiges of her defiance evaporated, whisked away in wake of his exploration. Mesmerized, she watched him as his attention followed his movements. Skimming over the clasp at the hollow of her throat, he took his time tracing along the edge of the opening in her blouse. His touch scorched across the delicate skin of her chest. Despite being fully clothed, she felt utterly exposed. 

Realizing she was holding her breath, she let out a shaky exhale. He glanced up at her and their eyes locked. Bringing a knuckle under her chin, he tilted her head up. Slowly, he leaned closer. And closer.

Anticipation drove all rational thought from her mind. Every inch of her body hummed in response to his proximity; his nearness kindling a dormant craving that she’d refused to acknowledge before. Her lips parted slightly in preparation.

And yet, despite her silent consent, he hesitated. Breathless expectation stretched the moment into an eternity. Impatient, she rose to her tiptoes to try to kiss him, desperate to end this delicious torment.

But he evaded her. 

Using his height to his advantage, he managed to stay just out of reach of her questing lips. Defeated, she settled back on her heels and glared up at him in flustered confusion. A wicked half smile curved across his face as he huffed a laugh.

“Now, who looks stupid?” he teased mildly. 

Humiliation flashed over her like a bucket of ice water. Her temper was quick to follow as she tensed, her hands balling into fists. Ready to lash out, she was just about to cock her arm to strike him right in the gut when he kissed her. 

Fingers curling into a tight grip on the lapels of her jacket, he dragged her into him. His lips captured hers firmly, eliciting a soft sound of shock from her. Taking advantage of her surprise, he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Although it was only for a moment, the velvety caress sent a bolt of pure lust straight through her. Anger completely forgotten, she clung to him, her knees weak. 

He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching hers. Something in her expression must have pleased him as the wicked smile returned. He kissed her again, stealing the breath from her lungs. 

This time he kissed her slowly and steadily, remaining totally in control. Only offering just enough to lure her to the edge of satisfaction, he would then retreat, making an opportunity to plant a couple of lingeringly sweet pecks against her cheeks before returning to brush his lips against hers to coax her into another round. 

Driven mad with hunger for more, she clutched at his clothes, pulling at him in desperation. A quiet grunt of dissatisfaction escaped her as her ache for him grew stronger. Sensing her growing fervor, at last he gave her exactly what she needed. 

Pushing her flush against the wall with his body, he took her face in his hands and kissed her senseless. She surrendered herself wholly to the connection, lost in the swirling sea of sensations as his tongue and lips worked in harmony with her own. 

Lightheaded and out of breath, she tilted her face away as she panted for air. Undeterred, his left arm snaked around her waist, keeping her close. He worked his way down the length of her jaw, leaving scorching hot kisses in his wake. His cybernetic hand still cradled her cheek as she tipped her head to allow him better access to her neck. The smooth finish of his metal fingers was exotic against the tender flesh of her cheek, exciting her further. 

Briefly, he stopped to nuzzle her neck. His teeth nipped at the rapid pulse in her throat. She gasped at the sharp flicker of discomfort, the shock further fanning the flames of her desire. Before she could recover, his lips pressed against the soft shell of her ear. The hot flutter of his breath made her quiver. 

She could hear the amusement in his voice as he whispered, “I think I may have found the perfect way to shut you up.”

I solo my first dungeons :')

•┈•• red vs blue ••┈•

Fiona when rhys inevitably returns to her:

This reminds me of that one ep of once upon a time where prince charming had to confront a siren snow white. Now I wanna draw what nymph Fiona would look like 😭🧡🧡

Rhyiona Week 2023 Day Five

Prompt: Legend

Cross My Heart

You, I can make you love me

Even when I take it all -- Always by Great Good Fine OK

He’d heard the stories. They echoed in his ears, even now, as he delved deeper into the woods. According to the tales Rhys had known most of his life, somewhere deep in this forest lay a spring, a wonder to behold and rumored to be the home of a nymph. It was said that kings and paupers alike used to visit the sacred site, offering any and all for a single boon.

Now, he was making the journey. 

Lost in thought, he fingered the patch over his left eye idly. He prayed that the stories were true. He had spent the last of his meager savings in an effort to track down this legend. Pulling his compass from the pocket of his doublet, he confirmed he was still headed in the correct direction. A short time later, he came upon his destination. 

Nature had reclaimed the marble columns that arched majestically around the perimeter of the little clearing, draping the solid white stone with choking green vines. Stepping around a toppled-over pillar, he surveyed the area. Bathed in sunlight streaming in from a break in the dense tree canopy overhead, the spring was an oasis of natural beauty. Patches of scarlet wild flowers dotted the thick carpet of grass underfoot, even sprouting in the cracks between the moss spotted boulders that lined the cerulean waters of the spring.

“Hello?” He called out, not truly expecting an answer. None came. 

Sliding his pack from his shoulder, he crouched to dig inside the leather bag. From it, he withdrew the items necessary to complete the summoning ritual. 

Atop the flat surface of one of the rocks, he laid out the assortment: a small sachet, a pair of old coins, and a scrap of paper. With trembling fingers, he untied the knot that held the sachet closed. Spreading the leather out, a grim menagerie of objects were disclosed. He flinched at the sight of the tiny bird skull amid the dried herbs, fine powdery ash, and other small bones he hoped were of animal origin. Carefully, he placed the two coins on top, mindful the king’s bust faced downward as the witch that had set him on this path had strictly instructed.

He pulled his dirk from the sheath at his hip. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he steadied himself before slicing into his palm. He winced as the sharp edge of the blade bit into his skin with ease and hot, red blood welled quickly. His dripping hand hovering above the coins, he recited the words scrawled on the paper. 

The ritual complete, he looked around expectantly, but found he remained alone. With a defeated sigh, he shook the excess blood from his wound and leaned forward to rinse it off in the waters below. 

I should have known better, he admonished himself. Only a fool would go off chasing fairy tales. 

As he dipped his hand into the cool liquid, something wrapped around his wrist. Shocked, a startled sound escaped him and he tried to withdraw, taking whatever it was with him. 

Encircling his wrist was a delicate hand, slender feminine fingers with nails tipped in turquoise color. Unbelieving of his own eyes, he watched dumbstruck as a woman emerged gracefully from the depths of the spring. Water streamed down her body, splashing back into the pool with a melodious chime. Half submerged, she was a vision unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

Clothed in a swath of damp fabric, it draped artfully along her curves. Her bare skin shimmered, the water droplets clinging to her reflecting the sunlight. Long russet-colored hair lay over one shoulder, shot through with a fiery red streak of a similar shade to the wildflowers that grew nearby. Sparkling emerald eyes gazed at him. 

“My, my,” she spoke. “What do we have here?” 

She took in the bloodied display of items still laid neatly atop the rock. Her eyes met his once more and she raised a scarred brow. A soft smirk graced her ruby lips. Her voice was like music as she said, “This is some old magic for such a young thing like you.” 

“I– I–” he struggled to formulate a response. His mouth opened and closed as his brain stalled. “I came to see you,” he blurted.

A gentle tinkle of laughter escaped her as her smirk melted into a genuine smile. “Oh, sweetling. If you wanted me this badly, all you had to do was call upon me. Aww,” she cooed, her attention turning to the open wound sliced across his palm, ”Now you’ve gone and hurt yourself.” 

Belatedly, Rhys realized she still held his wrist in her grasp. He watched as she raised his hand to her lips and planted a soft kiss to his cut. When their eyes met again, his heart skipped a beat. Transfixed by her emerald gaze, time spun out, a moment stretching into eons. Distantly he was aware of a tingling sensation that zipped along his wound and up his arm. Tearing himself away from her bewitching stare, he withdrew his hand from her gentle grip, took a step back, and glanced down to see his cut had fully healed. A faint thin seam of a scar was the only indication it had been there at all. 

“Now, seeing as how you’ve gone to so much trouble to summon me,” she came forward and leaned against the rocks lining the edge of the pool. Propping herself up against the flat ledge of a boulder, she rested her chin in her palm and looked up at him with expectant amusement, “What brings you here?” 

“Uh, Um, of course,” he shook his head in an attempt to straighten his scattered thoughts. “M– M’lady, I, um, wanted— If it pleases you–” Out of his element, he stuttered over his words, “ I-I’ve heard tales of your generosity and I seek to implore upon your benevolence.” 

“Ah, but it has been quite some time since anyone has come to beseech me,” she said brightly. “Tell me. What can I do for you?”

Nervous, Rhys cleared his throat before explaining, “There is a maiden in my town. She has come of marriageable age. I seek to ask for her hand, but her father is a wealthy man. A merchant tradesmen of some repute. I fear he would not be impressed by my meager offerings, if I were to approach him now. Hence, I’ve traveled here to…” he trailed off, apprehension gnawing at his insides. Speaking his words out loud, he realized how fatuous it sounded. 

“You’ve come to me,” she filled in, “in hopes of a significant boon that might sway this man to see you as a choice candidate for his daughter's hand. But is this a question of love,” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively. “Do you care for this maiden?” 

“I’m not certain I understand,” he flushed at the inquiry, unsure as to how to answer. “What difference does it make?”

Her lips twisted into a strange smile. The expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared. She shrugged, “Truthfully, it matters not. I am just a curious creature.” A knowing look settled upon her graceful features. ”But no doubt this betrothal would benefit you greatly, with more than just a pretty wife?” 

“Y-Yes, my lady,” he admitted reluctantly. “If I were to succeed in this advantageous match, my limited prospects in life would broaden, that is true. So will you help me?” 

She was silent for a moment as she mulled it over. Her eyes narrowed as she searched his face. 

“Wait here,” she bade him before disappearing under the surface of the water. Left alone, he nervously awaited her return. 

She resurfaced once more, putting forth a cupped palm. Nestled in her hand was the largest pearl Rhys had laid eyes upon. Black in color, it shone with a hypnotizing iridescence.

“This should serve to impress your maiden’s father,” she said with a smirk.

Rhys nodded mindlessly as he reached out to take the shimmering pearl.

“Ah, ah,” she admonished, closing her fingers and pulling away. “If you’ve heard tales told of me, you will know that I don’t offer anything out of the goodness of my heart. What do you propose to exchange for this courtesy?”

“Of course, my lady. My apologies.” 

He hastily patted at his pockets before remembering the pack at his feet. He bent to it and withdrew a small velvet pouch. Loosening the drawstring, he unfolded the cloth to reveal a delicate filigreed hair comb of fine wire, studded with small sparkling stones. 

“This was my late grandmother’s,” he explained. “Although not valuable in coin, it is of great sentimental worth to me. It is all I have to offer.” 

“Hmm,” she pondered, her eyes on the comb. Anticipation quickened the drum of his heart. “Yes, I believe this will suffice.”

Relief washed over him, immediately followed by a heady sense of excitement. They exchanged their goods; Rhys taking the pearl into the velvet sachet recently vacated by his grandmother’s comb. Wrapping it up, he tucked the treasure into his pack.

“Thank you, my lady,” he nodded respectfully, desperately trying to keep his excitement hidden under the veneer of manners.

“The pleasure was mine,” she said, “And please, call me Fiona.” 

“I’m honored to have met you… Fiona.”

“And what, pray tell, is your name, most intrepid sir,” she asked, a chuckle in her tone.

“Rhys, uh, my name is Rhys.” 

“Ah, Rhys," she smiled beatifically, her face lighting as she spoke his name out loud, “That’s lovely. Well, I wish you good fortune with your impending engagement.” 

With a wave of her hand, she slipped soundlessly beneath the surface of the water once more. 

()()()

Stumbling through the underbrush, Rhys panted as he came upon the spring. 

“Fiona!” he bellowed the nymph’s name angrily. Despite the week’s span that had unfolded since his disgrace, the bitterness was still fresh. Every step he’d taken on his journey back to this oasis further reminded him of the rube he was and the rebuff he had suffered.  

He called out once more, his hands at fists by his sides. 

“Well, hello again, Rhys.” In the space of a blink, she pushed up from the watery depths,  appearing even more captivating than he remembered. “I can’t say I expected–”

“You played me for a fool,” he interrupted her. Pulling the small leather satchel from his pocket, he opened it. Inside, the great shining pearl he’d so admired had transformed into a damp, shiny brown lump. He cast aside the offending mass against the rocks of her pool, where the thick clump of wet mud splattered along the side of a boulder. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“I suppose the proposal didn’t quite go as planned.” Amusement danced in her eyes. 

“I was humiliated. Alyssandra’s father laughed in my face when I asked for her hand.” Defeat rounded his shoulders. “She’s– she’s been betrothed to another.” 

“Alas, it was for the best, I imagine. You didn’t want to marry that girl,” she stated matter-of-factly ”No matter the advantages such a match might have presented, I saved you from a lifetime of boredom."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed resignedly. His anger ebbed away in the face of the truth. As much as he was loath to admit it, she was right. The memory of the half hour he’d spent in the company of the dull-witted young woman he’d so bent on marrying haunted him. 

“I suppose you want me to thank you, then,” he said sarcastically. “For your good deed?” 

An imperious smirk graced the nymph’s beautiful face. “A little gratitude would be welcomed.”

Unable to contain his exasperation, he rolled his eyes. “I’ve returned to retrieve my grandmother’s comb. Let’s have it.”

“No,” she flatly refused. Her hand reached up to the comb nestled in her hair behind her ear, fingers tracing the little glass stones tenderly. “The deal was struck. You received your boon. It matters not if you were unsatisfied after the fact. I, on the other hand, am quite pleased with our trade.” 

“But you tricked me!” he snapped, irritation spiking once more. 

“That’s a harsh way to put it,” she admonished playfully. “In the end, our trade was a barter for objects of equal value. I was merely less forthcoming as to the quality of my item as you were of yours.”  

“Fine,” he scoffed, outmatched. Frustrated at her arrogance, he threw his hands up and turned to leave.

“Rhys, wait,” she called out, causing him to hesitate. “I’m not completely heartless. Since you’ve come all this way, perhaps we can broker another exchange. Perchance for something more appealing than some silly girl’s favor or a worthless trinket?”

Everything within him screamed that he should continue on his way and forget this place even existed. But he found himself turning to face her once more. 

“What could you possibly have to offer me after all this,” he implored wearily, gesturing to the muddied rock. 

“Your eye.”

Instinctively, he reached up, his fingers brushing against the smooth leather of his patch. Her unexpected overture gave him pause. 

“How can I be assured that you won’t trick me again?”

“You can’t,” she stated plainly, “You’ll just have to trust me. But what have you got to lose?”

He was silent for a moment as he pondered that fact. Finally, he asked, “What would you want in exchange?” 

“Ah, therein lies the real question, my dear,” her head tipped as she lifted a brow. “What can you offer me?” 

He raised his hands in surrender, “Alas, I have nothing of any importance to give. As you know, I am a poor man, in coin and title.” 

“I don’t want your coin, boy,” she scoffed, “What good would coin do me, out here in these wilds?” She extended her arms to take in the expanse of forest that surrounded them. “No,” she shook her head as that honeyed smile quirked her lips once more. “I want something you haven’t given another soul.” 

Despite himself, his curiosity stirred, tempered by a fair amount of caution. “And what, pray tell, could that be?”

“All in due time,” she laughed merrily. “First, that eye of yours.” 

She dove beneath the surface of the pool. Rhys waited, his anxiety telling him to turn tail and run. Before he could heed his better judgment, however, she resurfaced. In her hand, she held a small clay salve pot. She tossed it to him and he caught it. 

“Apply that to your eye every night before sleep. It will give you wicked dreams but by the time the salve is gone, you will have sight in your eye once more.” 

“Th–Thank you,” he said, hesitantly as he tucked the little pot in his pocket. “Now, what do you want in return?”

“Come closer,” she beckoned.

She glided up to the rocky perimeter of the spring and leaned out over the flat surface of a boulder. From her perch, he could glimpse translucent patches of iridescent scales that shimmered in the sunlight along her skin, revealing her true nature. Confronted with this reminder that he was dealing with no ordinary woman, his eyes narrowed as he held his ground.

“Come, come,” she urged him forward, curling a finger at him.

Cautiously, he stepped closer to the edge of the pool. Still she beckoned him lower, until finally he dropped to one knee before her. Now, face to face, her eyes sparkled mesmerizingly. The sweet smile on her lips soothed his wild nerves.

“What is it that you require in return?” he asked again softly. 

“Just a kiss,” she replied, the very picture of enchanting innocence. 

Confused, his brows pulled together for a moment. “But I thought you desired something I had never given another,” he reminded her. 

“I do.”

Amusement suffused him and he smiled. “This may surprise you, my lady, but I have given a kiss before.”

“I have no doubt as to your prowess with fair maidens,” she said sardonically, “but a kiss is what I require.” 

Puzzled by her request, he searched her expression for any hint of subterfuge. She gazed back at him guilelessly. 

Finally, he conceded, “As you wish, my lady.” 

He leaned forward slowly. As the space between them shortened, he watched her intently, wary of any treachery. With none forthcoming, he proceeded to press a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. He was withdrawing quickly when she grabbed a handful of the front of his doublet, halting his progress. 

“Hmm,” she hummed skeptically. A wicked gleam shone in her gaze. “I think we can do better than that.” 

Before he could react, she pulled him in again. His eyes widened as she kissed him fully. Her lips were cold against his, a sensation he hadn’t registered on that initial contact. She brought her other hand to his cheek, the chill making him gasp in shock. In great contrast, her tongue was hot as it slipped into his mouth, a warm, slick caress that shook him to his core. 

Instantly bewitched, he was completely at her mercy. His eyes drifted closed as he yielded to her. Sensing his surrender, she retreated and nipped at his lower lip. The unexpected scrape of her teeth against that sensitive surface drew a hushed grunt of pleasure and surprise from him. Quickly, she ran her tongue over the nibble, soothing as well as coaxing him to meet her advancement. Enticed, he obeyed, uniting with her once more in a velvety harmony that set his blood aflame. With every thunderous heartbeat, he succumbed even further to the torrid, wet magic of her kiss. It was true, he had been kissed before, but the memories of those hasty or hesitant exchanges melted away in the feverishness of this connection. 

When she finally relented, he found himself panting for air like a drowning man. Still holding him close, she pressed her forehead to his and laughed breathlessly. “I’d say that’s a good start.” 

“For–for what?” he asked, his thoughts still scattered. 

“Oh, my dear sweet Rhys,” she purred his name, causing the hair on the nape of his neck to stand. “You see, this kiss wasn’t my payment. At least, not in full.” She looked him deeply in the eyes as her thumb brushed against his lips. Her other hand unclenched from his doublet, her palm spreading flat against his chest. “For your end of the bargain, you have to give me your heart.” 

“My-My what?” Crashing back to his senses, he was horrified. Quickly, he pulled away from her. In his haste,  he lost his balance, landing on his rear with a thud. Gaining his feet, he stumbled away, trying to put distance between them. 

“Don’t be so alarmed, sweet one,” she chuckled. “I speak only figuratively. I intend you no harm.”

“Wha–” he scrambled to understand, “What is the meaning of this?” 

She shrugged as she smiled that wicked grin, merriment shining in her eyes. “A goddess is only as powerful as when she is worshiped, Rhys. And it hurts to be forgotten. This ensures you’ll never forget me.” 

“ But– But how does one kiss equal my heart?” he demanded. 

“As I said, darling, it’s a start.”

Pushing away from the rocks and into the water, she lengthened herself out to float along the surface of her pool. Arms lazily stroking through the clear blue waters, she was the embodiment of carefree elegance. 

Head tipped back, she looked to the sky as she continued, “Soon, you will find I am always in the back of your mind. Your body will ache for my touch, your lips will yearn for my kiss. No matter where you go, you will long to return to me.” 

“Folly,” he spit out the word. Rekindled anger burned hot in his stomach. “I don’t know what your aim is, but I can assure you I have no intention of ever setting foot in these woods again.” 

Resolute in his conviction, he spun on his heel. 

“You’ll be back,” she sang out behind him. Her delighted laughter sounded musically in the air. 

Outraged, he rushed headlong into the surrounding forest. He rubbed the rear of his hand against his mouth in a vain attempt to scrub the events that had just unfolded away as he tried to reject the notion of her words from his thoughts. 

There was no truth to her proposition, he reassured himself. It’s all just the mad contrivances of a nefarious sprite bent on toying with me.

Even as he repeated the conviction endlessly, a seed of dissent blossomed in the back of his mind. The remembered warmth of her kiss burned like a fire across his nerves, the heady rush of her tongue as it tangled with his own lingered. Hopelessly vexed, he desperately pushed down the bittersweet memory of her lips against his and hurried on his way.

∘₊✧──Athena the Gladiator──✧₊∘

about to turn maliwan into maliwas amiright