(334) stealing all the siethreads, how mean of you XD
Myrika is by me!
Myrika did not know what was to come -- she hadn't known what Ezekiel was to Max, of course, nor vice versa. She did not prompt him again as they stood, but she watched his face carefully, turquoise eyes perceiving the tautness of his face and the strained way he looked at her. He started, muttering a single word, and then was quiet -- then his face changed. Myri could have mistaken the emotion she saw there as hate, and she almost recoiled: she began to, in fact, when he spoke, demanding of her. That stayed her body, and the hybrid crossed her arms, disliking that she'd made such a motion. She was less concerned with herself for the moment, however, than with what Max said and how he'd said it.
You should be more careful how you speak to me, the redhead advised, though her tone was light rather than grave, at least until she finished: I'm not Ezekiel. This was plain to see, of course, but the redhead wished to make it clear she told him of her own volition and not because he'd told her to do anything. This was far less reproach than she might have used, but some instinct stayed her impulse to assert herself immediately. There was hurt, not hate, written on the pale coyote's face -- sticking her head up above his wouldn't do much for either of their causes.
He didn't tell me anything, she said. I'm sorry, Max. There was sorrow in her voice -- sorrow that she did not know, regret at her inability to supply a better answer, and perhaps even a little bit of her own anger, turned inward and against herself as it was. He just said he was done. And that Inferni is mine, she added, silently, but this was an unnecessary sentiment at the moment, as she'd already reminded him of where Inferni's crown now sat, awkward a wearer as Myri was.
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