#witchcraft.

knee deep in the inky depths of black water was a pale figure ; unflinching from the icy chills against naked form , perhaps helped by the burning fire pit that sat behind her on the beach , fuelled by dragons breath ; a shameless display , improper , a violation to a decent society . A PRINCESS OF FIRE , BASKING IN THE NATURAL ENEMY ; REFUSING TO BE EXTINGUISHED . though she was not alone , behind her was leviathon , blue eyes never leaving her form ; ever the watchful guardian of the human he grew up beside , the silence is broken as a gargled scream pierces through the atmosphere ; a breath of strain , one hand curling harder around the throat , the other cupping a blotchy , red cheek ❛ nyke gīmigon , nyke gīmigon , ao sagon zūgagon ❜ ( i know , i know . you're scared ) ; tone sweet , broken from the way she had to wrangle the woman below the surface , but words were a whisper that was swept up by the ocean breeze ; purified by the salt in the air , the nameless wasn't listening , it hardly matters in the end . coraline pressed thumb under eye , harsh against socket as she tries to shush away hysteria .

❛ isse se mōris iksā dying syt mirros , mirre while īlē living syt daorun . bisa iksis iā irudy ❜ ( in the end you are dying for something, all while you were living for nothing. this is a gift. ) the blade strapped to thigh is pulled out once she watches the fight leave the body , fear giving way to acceptance , before the complexity of humanity awakens another bout of flight ; glistening , silver blade raises , holding it against the moonlight before swiping clean , quick against the base of throat , blood pooling to the surface the moment the skin is opened . the woman trashes again , coraline's grip loosens , watching the struggle ; the kicking &. the way words struggle to reach the surface , continuing to whisper words of embracing the next phase in existence , an act of violence masked as giving the other a second chance .

head dips , placing kisses around the area ; again &. again , a twisted version of comfort , tongue swiping across the open wound ; eyes fluttering shut as an explosion of metal &. salt coats tongue , a sense of euphoria washing over her - the moan building up cut off before it could ever escape , the low rumblings of leviathon shaking the earth below feet , the waves picking up against form ; rising , still holding the now limp body , gaze locks onto the intruder , tongue swiping across lips , doing little for the crimson that covers chin , sliding down her neck ❛ ao sagon daor meant naejot sagon kesīr ❜ ( you're not meant to be here ) no alarm in her tone , if amusement ; forgetting , or purposefully , to switch from valyrian to common tongue .