What Not to Do (Kallisti)

[Oriena]

“Am I making things hard, Nox?” she purred, but it ended in amusement not solicitation. She was draped all over him, but it was as much possession as it was provocation. Mae’s warning was met without much more than a roll of her eyes, though she did shift enough to watch the other woman slip by, appraising her up and down with a small, appreciative smirk. Nox seemed engaged in the most unimaginative pity-party. No wonder she fucked off at the earliest opportunity.

“Love hurts, sweetheart. You only just finding that out?” Ori tsked dismissively, purposefully cruel. Then she leaned to brush her lips against the shell of his ear, though only to whisper into it. “I like it rough, but I’m not into that kind of force. What would be the point? If you break your promise it’s your own fucking fault.” A sultry laugh followed, hot against his skin. “Fucking hell Nox, if you can’t handle a little attention you’re in the wrong fucking job.”

Beyond that she only watched the girls dance, and rested against him. His pain washed over her mostly unheeded, because the accusations threatened to tighten her jaw with the assumptions he made if she lingered on them. His muscles were tense to the touch. The concentration drew him dark, or something else. Ori couldn’t see the flows but she could see the effect; knew it was a burden to keep all that moving in sync. She barely glanced at the self-slashed red beading along his flesh-and-blood arm. He ought to save the melodrama for the stage. Or crush all that useless emotion into something that was actually useful.

But the last part made her laugh in bitter surprise. “Friends?” she asked. The word fell flat. It unhooked something it probably wasn’t wise to set free. “They’re burning me up, Nox; piece by fucking piece. A constant buzz in my head. Demanding. So much fucking hatred. And yet every time one of you fuckers kills one of them it’s another shred of my soul lying in tatters on the fucking floor.” Though the words were still hot and close it was anger not lust that laced them through now. The balance in her was tenuous. Breath caught like fire in her lungs.

He turned his face towards her. Tears wet Nox’s cheeks; she didn’t miss the weakness. It spiralled a memory in her head she pushed away from. “She puts him out of his misery,” she told him harshly. “Or she tells him to man the fuck up. Think you’re the only one to ever lose the only thing you ever wanted? Please.” But her fingers rose to catch his chin; held it there. The storm in her raged. “What makes you think you’re the fly?”

“The Atharim know you’re here. A few stern words might stay their hand tonight, but what about tomorrow? Next week? Next year?” The arm still around him tightened, like she fully expected the self-sacrificial idiot might choose martyrdom over growing some fucking balls. He couldn’t spend his life hiding, or running, or letting the fucking Atharim call the fucking shots. Her heart was beating wild; she knew it was not only her own emotion. Frustration cleaved the violence. It felt like drills in her skull.

“They’re right to fear us, Nox. We are the creatures in the dark. Show them, or I will.”

Her hand dropped away. So did her arm. The space opened up between them, cool. Ori didn't want to hear the ijiraq voices, clamouring for a vengeance it was rapidly becoming clear she couldn't give them. She needed something to drown them out before the surge started again.

“I came to help,” she said flatly. With the show, she meant. Before he burst a fucking vessel in his head. But it felt suspiciously like influence now. She didn’t need any of this. Or any of them. “I changed my fucking mind.”