>>6251092

“It will,” she nods. She hates how cold she is being, how distant. He only wants the best for her. She does not deserve him. “This is a warning, Helias. A warning to - me - .” The Stilladìa raises her gaze to the night, as her hand slowly reaches for Helias’ hand.
And she truly does not deserve it, because there she is, ready to meet hers, alabaster skin entwining glossy darkness. “For six hundred years she has considered us little more than a wayward nuisance. And what did we do in those six centuries? Create an empire that does not need to lick her fingers. No, love, I will pull her down from her lofty throne, by the might of steel and by the force of the engines. By the craftiness of physicians. By surgeon and antiseptic, I will make a Goddess - obsolete -. And she has finally realised this. This means she is finally is afraid.” Her rage pulsates through her body in heated waves, even as Helias holds her so tenderly.
“Then,” he hushes her by setting his smooth lips against her neck. “Try not to lose yourself to fear.”
Oh, he’s just too good.
He always knows what to say, every time.
She feels herself relaxing in his embrace, her rage, which comes from the fear of having to go back to the place where she murdered Bragia Lacresta and where Ansàrra blasted her body through blindglass and miles of open air, casting her off her palace, coated in the warmth of his presence, feels a bit more bearable.
“There are older and greater things than Ansàrra, love,” he reminds her.
“I know. I just wish they would grant us more time.”

[cont.]