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[ She spent so long being blind. To herself, to him. Now she watches him so carefully, leaning into the way he shivers. The way she makes him shiver, the wind finally knocking loose bricks from the old church. He reaches for her like a plant aching towards the sun but stuck rooted between stones.

Parted lips capture his thumb, soft and testing. She tastes his history, his hands that bear his eternity as callouses, roughened hands that have slaughtered countless and summon death. He can change his name, change his face, but his hands will never lie. Her teeth press into the flesh, not to bite or even to hold, just to drag her claim in his flesh because he can. If her own treacherous body bows to him like he plucks strings masterfully, she will own his in turn. Or at least try.

Her throat thrums with uncertainty. She has as many questions as stars in the sky. She knows their ending. A victorious one, good triumphing over evil as the stories always should end. But a victorious one is not always a happy one. But it is inevitable and necessary. ]

Have you ever loved anyone?

[ She picks at her own wound. Nikolai had told her that he loved her, and she had said it back. Now, she's not sure it's something she deserves. It's easier when the answer is conditional anyway, when she is a pet to be collared, than an equal to sit at his side. Easier to think that he can cut her out the moment she stops being useful. Those are the rules she understands, truer than like to like. ]