[P] you said, "this i do for you"
The flames had tempted him from his home like a fiery beacon in the night, confusing and exhilarating in tandem. He did not understand it, nor did anyone else — but a sense of self-preservation pushed him forward nonetheless as he fetched buckets full of Her life-giving waters, praying over them to douse the inferno before it leapt to other houses in the Square.

In the midst of his attempts, there was a figure at the corner of his vision, a woman with black-as-night hair and bright eyes that glittered in the firelight. She gave him momentary pause, curiosity quickly shifting to anger.


Through a collaborative effort, the torched house was finally, thoroughly quenched, the flames choking out their final breaths as smoke still billowed into the sky. In the new pitch-dark of the night, the Lorn man approached her from behind when she was alone, away from the Queen — and he snatched her away, his claws obscured in her thin fur as he pulled her behind a building, away from the crowds, away from them all.

Rand had to suppress the instinct to dispatch of her on the spot, though he knew that a seemingly senseless murder would put an even bigger target on his back than what was already there.

"Éna," he spoke her name with a vitriol previously unknown as he pressed into her, the smell of cinder and smoke on the both of them tickling and burning his nose.

"You should not be here, whore." He chuffed, a humorless and dry sound.

"I'd start speaking, if I were you, and quickly."

rand is doing an amger

OOC: ena immediately personifies the sweat drops emoji || WC: --


Vodeva had been the first to break from her reverent staring, and Alma soon behind her, leaving Éna to her own devices. The building had been reduced to little more than a smudge, smoldering and ash-covered, and she had left once the wood’s fire-eaten timbers merely glowed soft veins of dying red. Nín’s waters had cleansed the square, and now ran dirty and black into the earth.

She’d thought she’d seen a ghost then. No sooner than she had dismissed the  breath of memory had hands found her, forgoing her cloak, the length of her hair, and bedded into the thinness of her coat, whisking her away into a dark, dim alley between buildings.

She captured a lungful of air in a gasp, eyes whaled and wide, as she was twisted towards her aggressor, shoulders colliding with stone and wood of the wall behind her. He was dark, slate-grey, eyes glittering like the embers, but where she had expected that steely strip of pale, ghostly white, the zagging of scars, they came up wrong.

Sometimes, it was hard to tell them apart. Her dark hands flew up to hold his wrists, defensive and attempting her best to appease him, her pink tongue wetting her lips, and his words were a sibilant hiss that sank into her and rattled the acolyte bodily.

It should not have excited her the way it did. Much as the shame had told her to avert her eyes, turn her gaze downward, it kept flitting back up through her dark, long lashes to his severe expression.

”Rand,” Éna had started, though any conviction had been bled from her voice, leaving it airy and thin. ”It has been some time.”

It was an understatement. She drew a soft, shuddering breath.

”I have found you.”

I am not bound by where I'm from, I'm not awake I am not sleeping
as I walk along the in-between of everything come and gone

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