In the pale light of Dorian’s back patio, Lih shuddered.
He was still reeling from the great trauma that had afflicted Siobhan and the wolf. His body was in spasm.
“Stop moving,” said the brown-haired man quietly, laying a hand on Lih’s shoulder.
Lih was getting strong enough, though. He could feel it. His arms were hardening just that wee bit that no one picked up on without using the tone of voice that states clearly they’ve agreed with him only to get away, because they feared for whatever happened to be on their plate at the time, or simply to humor the thin, pale man who went about saying stuff about his feelings with distressed watery eyes.
He heard the rising echo of Dorian’s words as the other man—the god with fire!—climbed out around the many, many wires Lih couldn’t see; the debris; he calmly checked Siobhan and the fallen wolf. The din faded, and the quiet of the Vega estate re-established itself.
Where he was, the brown-haired man suddenly raised his gun and aimed it at Siobhan; Dorian’s gun was sweeping the wolf.
There was a long pause; the wolf woke up first, then she nudged Siobhan awake, growling.
He turned his head to see what the blonde rockstar, his idol— not that Siobhan needed to know—was looking at in particular as she was helped up.
“I didn’t mean to intrude—“
Lih cleared his throat, and walked slowly back—carefully retracing his steps into the Vega estate.
He wanted to say goodbye to Dorian before he left, it was only polite; but he didn’t want to jeopardize his retreat by making a fuss. Dorian and the others were busy finding out what Siobhan and a bloody big wolf was doing at their home.
His voice trailed off… as the upbeat ringtone coming from his wallet chimed.
“… we are the sisters of the moon..."
Lih cringed.
The blush spanned from the tip of his white hair to the well polished nail of his biggest toe, not to mention everywhere in between and Lih hadn’t even known that was possible. It was very little surprise that he was content to melt into the ground forever—which seemed like no time at all—as he rejected the call.
His wallet rang again. Same chorus. Silver Skans.
Clearly rejecting the call was unsuccessful and so he opted for a small whine of frustration and a pout and picked up.
Silence, then, “I could have killed you. I should have killed you. Now’s not a good time.” Click.
He stared, red-faced, into the expression of Siobhan, the woman whose hit-single it was.
Vitya Lih
He was still reeling from the great trauma that had afflicted Siobhan and the wolf. His body was in spasm.
“Stop moving,” said the brown-haired man quietly, laying a hand on Lih’s shoulder.
Lih was getting strong enough, though. He could feel it. His arms were hardening just that wee bit that no one picked up on without using the tone of voice that states clearly they’ve agreed with him only to get away, because they feared for whatever happened to be on their plate at the time, or simply to humor the thin, pale man who went about saying stuff about his feelings with distressed watery eyes.
He heard the rising echo of Dorian’s words as the other man—the god with fire!—climbed out around the many, many wires Lih couldn’t see; the debris; he calmly checked Siobhan and the fallen wolf. The din faded, and the quiet of the Vega estate re-established itself.
Where he was, the brown-haired man suddenly raised his gun and aimed it at Siobhan; Dorian’s gun was sweeping the wolf.
There was a long pause; the wolf woke up first, then she nudged Siobhan awake, growling.
He turned his head to see what the blonde rockstar, his idol— not that Siobhan needed to know—was looking at in particular as she was helped up.
“I didn’t mean to intrude—“
Lih cleared his throat, and walked slowly back—carefully retracing his steps into the Vega estate.
He wanted to say goodbye to Dorian before he left, it was only polite; but he didn’t want to jeopardize his retreat by making a fuss. Dorian and the others were busy finding out what Siobhan and a bloody big wolf was doing at their home.
His voice trailed off… as the upbeat ringtone coming from his wallet chimed.
“… we are the sisters of the moon..."
Lih cringed.
The blush spanned from the tip of his white hair to the well polished nail of his biggest toe, not to mention everywhere in between and Lih hadn’t even known that was possible. It was very little surprise that he was content to melt into the ground forever—which seemed like no time at all—as he rejected the call.
His wallet rang again. Same chorus. Silver Skans.
Clearly rejecting the call was unsuccessful and so he opted for a small whine of frustration and a pout and picked up.
Silence, then, “I could have killed you. I should have killed you. Now’s not a good time.” Click.
He stared, red-faced, into the expression of Siobhan, the woman whose hit-single it was.
Vitya Lih