[ alina's gaze coasts between his eyes, as though trying — in vain — to decipher the prophecy he's spoken. from any other mouth, she would take it as a reassurance of safety a promise of companionship, a grand declaration of romance to tell her nothing will keep us apart. i won't let it. from his, it rings with the omen of a threat, another admission that even if he allows himself to be vulnerable in sleep beside her — even if he has faith that she would never rip the skin from bone to absorb his blood's power — he will never fully trust her. that perhaps he never had while keeping her under lock and key in the little palace, like a pet that couldn't be trusted to keep itself protected, to make the right choices, if it wandered too far from his sight.

rather than torture herself with questioning which it could be — a sentiment of an attachment, or a warning to steer her back to him — her eyes harmlessly roll, with all of the casual air of a school teacher being needled by a misbehaving child. ]

It won't take long. [ unrepentantly, alina's fingers latch onto his cheek and pull in a chiding pinch. instinctively, her thumb smooths across the pink stain that blossoms from the light pressure. ] Haven't you been getting enough sleep lately? Enough to not be so grouchy about it?

[ her dress billows around her ankles as she takes a step back and then another, slipping into the doorframe. with a finality that brokers no time for doubt or argument, she repeats, ]

I will be back, Aleksander. I've already told you I'll return. [ she pauses, only for another sentence to trail her out the door: ] Wait for me.

[ and with that, she floats out of the door with blankets in tow, striding through the ashes of scorpion's bend. ]