Chapter 50: Kiss that tasted of Iced Dessert
The cinders of the garden vapourised along with the drifting gusts, as the ice witch’s thorns hissed against the encircled flames. Adrei’s hollowed gaze darted around the destruction, frozen wasteland met cindering warcry, a death rattle for physics, continent split by circling flames and icy thorns, a miraculous sight that would have her sister sighing in wonders.
Adrei raised her hand, the circled flames retracting to her palm like whips to a houndmaster, except she cared for lesser bugs instead of a worthy enemy. The weeping hazes of fogs echoing in her ears, a cackling cry of the tarred World that revelated to the roaring flames. Amidst the cry, soft taps of soil taught the scorched lands a new form of silence, as the dragon’s lips curled up at the familiar glitters that spoke of winters, as her draconic eyes, now loving instead of indifferent, turned to her lover.
"You don’t need a rest?"
Demond blinked, scoured around the destructive miracles of the ages, the ashen flowery scent tickled a belated realisation, before she scowled at Adrei with a wry smile. "Uh...I know I kinda break it off with Adil, but you do realise we have no money on us to pay for all...this, right?"
"...my sisters can pay, no worries." Unshamefully, the Dragon Queen threw the responsibilities to her sisters, after simply attempting to incinerate her sister into the sky she loved staring so much.
Demond sighed as her bare feet tapped forward, as the Dragon Queen had a scowl that mirrored her lover as she glanced down. The old habits of her lover struck again like during her walk in Leona’s cave, for the feet left a crimson hollowness that stained the icy carpet, each marred scaths petals of a grief unbefitting to the ice queen, each a stinging ache to the Dragon Queen’s heart.
"...I know. You don’t have to tell me." Demond glanced away, in defeat, in guillt of worrying her husband. Her icy eyes that used to glare at her friend like a cockcroach now underlied softness of a cotton flower, and the fragility of a dandelion.
"I won’t. But a sovereign’s wife must care for herself more than her husband, Demond." A coiled admonishment for the ice witch who nodded in response, as she stopped before her husband, the height differences between one who cared and one who was cared for.
"Adrei...then what about you?" Yet the roles switched again, as she stared into the Draconic lens that seemed unfazed after attempting to murder one of her closest family. "Don’t....don’t tell me you are fine. I will hate you."