[ What do promises made between two desperate fools matter at the dawn of a new war day? But unkindness does not become the hour, and the night grows long, strained. Cold. Colder, Yasha speculates, than Ashura has ever had the privilege and inclination to taste on a delicate tongue. It is a fire master who rules Shura, a host of the flame. If snow has embittered Yasha, it must be doubly so to one used to heat alone.
He moves stiffly, one hand not straying from Ashura's hold, his other twisting to recover the remains of his removed cape. One cumbersome shift, then the second, and poor aim and effort see the cloth tossed over Ashura's head, pooling over the sleeveless arm. ]
no subject
He moves stiffly, one hand not straying from Ashura's hold, his other twisting to recover the remains of his removed cape. One cumbersome shift, then the second, and poor aim and effort see the cloth tossed over Ashura's head, pooling over the sleeveless arm. ]
Honour the steel, then. But first, sleep.