[ it won't happen again, she thinks, as with the same overconfidence she lets her gaze drag down across his back, over the curve of pale muscle that's tight at his backside.
something possessive and dark curls in her chest, and alina tries to snuff it out, drawing her eyes back upward, taking her place beside him as they exit the row and make their way out of the arena. but it's too late. she's let it in. it is too easy to let it in when she feels in control of it. ]
( despite alina's assurance, the walk to the temple seems to be without end. and while he's not the only submissive in a state of undress, none seem to be entirely naked.
he wonders, idly, if this is due to the festival itself. it would ironic, wouldn't it, to land themselves with a citation just because alina starkov decided to prove a point?
biom's temple isn't much of a temple at all, it turns out, but more of an open air shrine surrounded by symbols he assumes gives a clue to the god's nature. )
Spears and shields, I understand. Even the boars and the dogs make a measure of sense. But serpents?
Especially curious, given that I haven't seen a snake since arriving here.
[ they aren't terribly common in ravka, but she'd seen her fair share in novyi zem. then again, she hasn't left the city limits except for camp. she carries his clothes and her shoes right up to the front of the temple, where the offering plate rests.
alina produces her coin from inside her bust. it clangs as she tosses it into the plate. then she fishes in the pocket of the darkling's trousers for his. she offers it out to him. ]
But a saint's a saint. What difference does it make what symbols they use?
Or something that a tailor could use to slowly poison a king.
[ she snaps it out because she just can't help herself. despite this, she hands his clothes out to him. she'd gotten what she wanted. proved her point. at least, it feels that way now. ]
( at least he assumes not. her connection to the queen would have allowed genya access to resources that even the little palace couldn't dream of, so perhaps she'd found a way to procure some.
[ she deposits his clothes — and her own shoes — on a pew and turns away from him then and makes the call, standing off to the side of the temple, far enough to avoid intruding upon any of the faithful's visitations. ]
( it's the dismissiveness that really gets under his skin, it turns out. more than the bitterness and the sniping. the ever-present — and entirely juvenile — need to make a point.
the only person alive that has rankled him this much has been malyen oretsev, with his utter determination not to die like he was supposed to. )
I thought people staring was the whole point.
( dressing is not the leisurely, considered affair it generally is. as blasé as he's presently being, he actually has no desire to make the journey back to the house naked. )
[ she hangs up on the driver, narrowing her eyes. he's certainly taking her time. there is still the festival to walk back through to a street where they can be picked up, that hasn't been cordoned off for pedestrians. maybe it'd be appropriate to make him remain naked at least that long. ]
[ for a moment, it tempts her. not for the reasons he'd like. but she can too easily imagine charging over to tear them off, destroying the very clothes she'd bought for him. but he isn't worth it.
so instead, she grits her teeth. ]
Get. Dressed.
[ she turns from him then, taking his compliance for granted, and exits the temple. ]
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no subject
[ it won't happen again, she thinks, as with the same overconfidence she lets her gaze drag down across his back, over the curve of pale muscle that's tight at his backside.
something possessive and dark curls in her chest, and alina tries to snuff it out, drawing her eyes back upward, taking her place beside him as they exit the row and make their way out of the arena. but it's too late. she's let it in. it is too easy to let it in when she feels in control of it. ]
no subject
he wonders, idly, if this is due to the festival itself. it would ironic, wouldn't it, to land themselves with a citation just because alina starkov decided to prove a point?
biom's temple isn't much of a temple at all, it turns out, but more of an open air shrine surrounded by symbols he assumes gives a clue to the god's nature. )
Spears and shields, I understand. Even the boars and the dogs make a measure of sense. But serpents?
no subject
[ they aren't terribly common in ravka, but she'd seen her fair share in novyi zem. then again, she hasn't left the city limits except for camp. she carries his clothes and her shoes right up to the front of the temple, where the offering plate rests.
alina produces her coin from inside her bust. it clangs as she tosses it into the plate. then she fishes in the pocket of the darkling's trousers for his. she offers it out to him. ]
But a saint's a saint. What difference does it make what symbols they use?
no subject
( he turns the coin over in his hand, studying it as if it might offer some answer before he finally drops it into the tray. )
Venom, in the right doses, can be a curative.
no subject
[ she snaps it out because she just can't help herself. despite this, she hands his clothes out to him. she'd gotten what she wanted. proved her point. at least, it feels that way now. ]
I'm calling a car.
no subject
( at least he assumes not. her connection to the queen would have allowed genya access to resources that even the little palace couldn't dream of, so perhaps she'd found a way to procure some.
he'd never thought to ask. )
no subject
[ she deposits his clothes — and her own shoes — on a pew and turns away from him then and makes the call, standing off to the side of the temple, far enough to avoid intruding upon any of the faithful's visitations. ]
no subject
the only person alive that has rankled him this much has been malyen oretsev, with his utter determination not to die like he was supposed to. )
I thought people staring was the whole point.
( dressing is not the leisurely, considered affair it generally is. as blasé
as he's presently being, he actually has no desire to make the journey back to the house naked. )
no subject
[ she hangs up on the driver, narrowing her eyes. he's certainly taking her time. there is still the festival to walk back through to a street where they can be picked up, that hasn't been cordoned off for pedestrians. maybe it'd be appropriate to make him remain naked at least that long. ]
no subject
( because that's the only way that will happen, he promises in tone if not word. )
no subject
so instead, she grits her teeth. ]
Get. Dressed.
[ she turns from him then, taking his compliance for granted, and exits the temple. ]