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pythor casts a look at skales. “what are you doing here?”
it’s been years, since they had separated — since skales had left. well, yes, perhaps pythor had something to do with it too. but the point was: skales had left willingly with those….ah, not feet anymore. looks like skales finally snatched the crown from the general. pythor must say it’s better look on skales. that look of a ruler. a king.
like skales had once promised. a commander right under —
“pythor,” skales says. the low hiss of skales voice makes pythor’s skin itch. it’s been a very long time, since pythor had heard it.
the memories that had been buried deep into the depths of pythor’s mind start to resurface — their once house, filled with “junk” as skales loved to call it but it was treasure. the soft curve of skales’ smirk as skales loved to repeat pythor’s names to infuriate the anacondrai. because skales knew exactly what effect it made on pythor.
“i’m here for a proposal.”
skales slithers closer, and skales’ hand is not touching pythor’s but — it’s a close thing.
“for a marriage union.” skales says. eyes firm and not breaking away from pythor’s, saying everything that skales’ mouth isn’t.
something that pythor doesn’t want to translate.