12-29-2025, 02:44 PM
Nhysa slipped in without ceremony, the way dusk overtakes a room before anyone thinks to light a lamp. She paused just inside the doorway, letting the conversation finish without announcing herself, dark eyes tracking Li first, then the stranger with him. Her gaze drifted briefly upward, to the corners others ignored. Nothing lingered long – this was Li’s space, and whatever watched from elsewhere knew better than to stay in a room adorned with a severed Oni head. One of the ornaments had been turned just slightly off, though; cocked at an angle that suggested fingers – or something like them – had been there recently. Li attracted the mischievous ones like none other she had ever met. Nhysa watched the last trace of it fade before she spoke.
“Trips into the tunnels?” she said mildly. “You say that like you’re planning a picnic.”
She had been around more often lately; present in the way of someone who knew the locks, the rhythms, and exactly when Li would still be awake. She slept here sometimes, and she stopped by often, when the mood or the hour struck. Teaching at the dojo, though – that was new. And had been her idea, much to Li’s amusement.
She crossed the room soundlessly, passing close enough by Li that there was no mistaking who she belonged with – or who belonged to her. Her fingers found his arm by habit and possessive affection, sliding along the tattoos and warm skin. Though the patterns she traced were not in the ink, but the hidden scars the artwork hid. She did not apologise for the intrusion, nor for the display of intimacy. Her look up at him and faint smirk suggested she had hoped to find Li free after her class, but she was a patient predator.
“The parents spoke to me again today,” she told him instead. “Apparently telling their children to bite, claw, and go for the eyes is ‘inappropriate.’” A faint crease appeared between her brows, more confusion than regret. “I don’t understand why they’d prefer their children helpless.”
Teaching a six year old how to break a nose with their forehead was practical when said six year old was so very small. Nhysa didn’t see the value of raising children who couldn’t look after themselves. The world wasn’t polite; it wouldn’t thank them for good manners. Her gaze lifted to the unfamiliar man then, dark eyes steady, assessing. Not unfriendly, just curious.
“Trips into the tunnels?” she said mildly. “You say that like you’re planning a picnic.”
She had been around more often lately; present in the way of someone who knew the locks, the rhythms, and exactly when Li would still be awake. She slept here sometimes, and she stopped by often, when the mood or the hour struck. Teaching at the dojo, though – that was new. And had been her idea, much to Li’s amusement.
She crossed the room soundlessly, passing close enough by Li that there was no mistaking who she belonged with – or who belonged to her. Her fingers found his arm by habit and possessive affection, sliding along the tattoos and warm skin. Though the patterns she traced were not in the ink, but the hidden scars the artwork hid. She did not apologise for the intrusion, nor for the display of intimacy. Her look up at him and faint smirk suggested she had hoped to find Li free after her class, but she was a patient predator.
“The parents spoke to me again today,” she told him instead. “Apparently telling their children to bite, claw, and go for the eyes is ‘inappropriate.’” A faint crease appeared between her brows, more confusion than regret. “I don’t understand why they’d prefer their children helpless.”
Teaching a six year old how to break a nose with their forehead was practical when said six year old was so very small. Nhysa didn’t see the value of raising children who couldn’t look after themselves. The world wasn’t polite; it wouldn’t thank them for good manners. Her gaze lifted to the unfamiliar man then, dark eyes steady, assessing. Not unfriendly, just curious.
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