damia ravin speaks fluent sarcasm (contrabandist) wrote in emillion, |
Stay here, he'd said, as if Damia was some dog to be commanded. The very idea of being ordered, even if it was for her own good or safety, grated on her nerves, but like a good dog, she waited-- for about ten whole seconds. Until the ninth second, she'd been so well-behaved, but on ten, she ripped her dagger from its sheath and followed hot on his heels.
Always quiet on her feet, the corsair padded up behind him, uncaring of whether or not he spotted her. If someone had sprung a trap, they were likely caught in it and unable to move, but she hated taking too many chances. She was always taking one too many being here with Cian, but the intoxication hadn't worn off completely, and she was thinking with her heart, not her head. Later, there would be a kick in store for her.
Upon catching up to him, lingering about two feet behind, Damia tightened her fingers around the hilt of her dagger, considering, for a moment, knocking Cian upside the head for having the audacity to order her around.