#nethiel

Nethiel is really good at reading people. Be it the small nuances of body language; the gentle quiver in the aura, for that split second that betrayed a lie; the way their eyes flickered differently when they said someone’s name; they way they walked heavier on the right foot and not the left; the way the always washed left hand first; how they never wore their daggers on both legs, but on one. 

Sweet Pea — “Thank you for a lovely time.”

Nethiel picks out the small pink bloom from her belongings, rolling the stem between her fingers and smirks. What was this - someone sneaking Terran flowers into her things now? This, was new.

She touched the small petals, drawing up the pleasant scent from the pads of her fingers. She’d heard people were giving flowers to express certain things, and she had found one for Zakky a few days ago to express that she in-fact did not love him. It got her the expected reaction, a grunt, “what the fuck” and then a fuck against the wall.

But this - this was apparently meant to mean, if she remembered, thank you for a lovely time. Was it Kel? No. He’d just tell her. Zakky would just fuck her thanks, she supposed. Others wouldn’t dare go near her things - unless. Oh. Firiah! 

Nethiel laughed quietly to herself as the set the flower at the side, remembering the sweet, fun Nerazim she’d hooked up with and convinced to get a rather risqué tattoo. Hah. It had to be her. She did have fun with her. And maybe one day she might again.

Sweet Pea — "Thank you for a lovely time.” White Camellia — "You’re adorable.”

Thenel awoke, lazily draping himself over his bed. It was far past noon but he didn’t care. And as expected, as she had said, Firiah was already gone by the time he had awoke. She usually was. There was once when she had stayed until they were both awake, but he didn’t expect it to become the norm.

As he sat up in his bed, tangled in the soft sheets, slowly waking up, his eyes caught two small flowers sat on the bedside table. 

Thenel frowned and picked them up gently, so as not to damage the delicate stems and petals. What were they?

“Cat, come here a sec.”

The probe beeped and hovered over to Thenel’s side.

“Scan these. What are they?”

Cat’s ray hovered over the flowers, then a second later, a holo screen popped up before him. 

The language of flowers associates the following meanings with with sweet peas: blissful pleasure, delicate pleasure, good-bye, departure, adieu and thank you for a lovely timeWhite camellias with their pristine and pure hue depict an adorable quality.  If you think someone is adorable, the best flowers that you can give to them are the white camellia.  On another note, this white blossom may also symbolize perfection or being without blemish.

📷 for what my muse would say to the paparazzi about yours.

“I said you had ten minutes,” said Nethiel, drawing a claw down her cheek as she stared at the smaller Tal’Darim, his narrow eyes watching her, warily. “If you don’t hurry, I’ll make it five.”

“Y-yes Ascendant,” he stuttered, tapping the small device before him. A blue light flickered on, and he turned the lens to point at Nethiel.

She smirked, crossing one leg over the other. “I may sit high up the chain, but I still like to be referred to as a Blood Hunter,” she said, resting a hand atop her knee, covered in the gleaming black metal of her armour. “I got to where I am as a Blood Hunter - and it is what I am. I have no qualms with that, unlike others.”

“Of course, Nethiel - may I call you Nethiel?”

“If you call me Neth, I will kill you.”

He said nothing.

She laughed and leaned back into the chair, never letting her eyes leave his. “Well. You have nine minutes left.”

“R-right,” he said, fingers anxiously wringing together. “One - one of the questions I hear often is that someone has finally - finally managed to - to tame the infamous Nethiel. A Lieutenant by the name of Kelha’zil.”

At his words, a melodic laugh spilled from Nethiel’s mind to his. Her claws, splayed, tapped over her knee, the gentle hiss of claw on metal a harmony to her melody.

“Tame me? No-one tames me,” she said, leaning forward, her covered cords falling forward with the slow, laboured movement. “Kelha’zil is my lover; he is my friend; my companion in battle.” She paused, her eyes settling on the camera, it’s small blue light blinking. “But above all, he is mine.”

“Yours?” said the interviewer, resting his nervous hands atop his lap.

“Your mind isn’t addled, no? You can hear my words, yes?” she asked with a sneer, her eyes narrowed to a smirk. 

He said nothing.

“Some people like to put their hands where they don’t belong,” she said, purposefully, her eyes fixed on the camera. “But no matter. Those who do, will only end up pulling back a stump, when I remove their fingers, one by one.” Nethiel laughed, loudly, as she settled back onto the seat, sighing pleasantly. 

The reporter blinked, tapping the pads of his fingers together. “Does that mean you love him?”

At that, Nethiel, said nothing.

She blinked, her hand tightening around her knee, the tips dragging along the unscathed metal. 

“When do I have to love something for it to be mine?” she challenged, her voice wavering, just a little.

“You must feel something for him-”

“Six minutes. Next question, of you’ll feel my blade in your neck, and your head on this floor.”

Oh she did. She felt something.

Love?

Is also lovely to RP with you, Yesi. :3

Nethiel stared at the message, sat at the foot of the bed. 

Their bed. 

Exhausted, her armour falling to the floor, piece by piece with a thud. She had been gone four days, and she had barely slept. Her hands shook. She hadn’t had a hit in two days and she could barely see.

Kelha’zil lay behind her, lost to the deep throes of sleep. She almost didn’t want to wake him - she wasn’t sure if she could. The sound of her armour falling didn’t seem to be having an effect. 

Naked, she stood from the bed, staring at Kel, tangled in his sheets, his arm draped over the space where she usually lay. Had someone laid there while she was gone? Had he filled the void with someone else?

Nethiel’s fingers twitched at the thought. What right did she have to think such possessive thoughts? 

None. None.

He stirred. His hand slid over the space where she usually lay, fingers curling into the soft fabric as he reached out for something.

For someone. 

For - for her?

Nethiel slid onto the bed and took his hand, her cold, tense, shaking body curling up against his, still lost, far, to sleep. 

His arm wrapped around her body, fingers sinking into her back as he unconsciously pulled her against him. The swell of his aura, happy.

Nethiel wrapped an arm around his bulk, and closed her eyes.