Petals of the Damned

A Deal

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Rio walked the dirt road into the small town at around three in the morning, when everyone was sleeping. The witching hour.

It had only been a few hours since she had last seen Agatha, but she just couldn't stay away. She had to figure out why she couldn't leave Agatha alone. Rio walked past a small pen with goats, noticing they startled as she walked past. Humans couldn't see her unless she revealed herself to them, but animals had a sixth sense, a primal fear of her.

Finally, she reached the inn where she knew Agatha was staying for the night. With a wave of her hand, she appeared inside Agatha's room in a wave of black and green smoke.

The room was silent, save for the soft crackling of candle wicks that flared to life at Rio's command. One by one, the flames leapt up, casting a golden glow over Agatha's sleeping body, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She lay tangled in a worn blanket, a loose shirt slipping off one shoulder, her hair fanned out on the pillow in soft waves. Even at rest, Agatha's face held a quiet intensity, her brows furrowed slightly as if in some unspoken struggle.

Rio stepped closer, her movements as silent as the shadows pooling around her. She knelt beside the bed, watching the steady pulse at Agatha's throat, her hand hovering over the place where Agatha's heart beat in time with the flickering flames. A soft warmth radiated beneath Rio's fingers, and she fought the urge to press her hand down, to feel the rhythm of Agatha's heartbeat as if it might offer her some understanding. She had never touched a living human before, only dead ones - maybe if she touched Agatha, she could know more.

Carefully, she lowered her fingers, brushing the air above Agatha's heart. Just a touch would be enough -

Agatha's eyes flew open, their blue depths locking onto Rio's, still heavy with sleep but sharp with awareness. Agatha's body moved before Rio's mind caught up - her hand shot out, seizing Rio's wrist in a grip like iron. Before Rio could react, she found herself spun, her back hitting the bed, and Agatha hovering over her. The weight of Agatha's body pressed against her, and a cold blade gleamed in the low light, its edge resting just against the delicate skin of her throat.

Rio's breath hitched, not in fear, but in awe. Agatha's eyes burned with a dangerous intensity, sharp and alive, her face inches away, framed by the loose strands of her dark hair. She was beautiful like this: fierce, dangerous, her lips parted in surprise and suspicion, yet her gaze was steady, all her attention zeroed in on Rio.

"Trying to kill me in my sleep, Death?" Agatha's voice was a low murmur, every word dripping with dark amusement. "I thought we were getting along."

Rio let her eyes wander over Agatha's face, her calm never wavering. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have woken up at all."

But Agatha only pressed the knife a fraction harder, not that it would do anything - it takes a different kind of weapon to harm death herself. The sharpness didn't bother Rio, of course; what held her attention was the absolute warmth of Agatha's palm against her chest, the weight of Agatha's body above her. This closeness, the crackling intensity between them, was an unfamiliar sensation, and yet something about it seemed undeniably right.

"Then why are you here?" Agatha's voice softened but her grip remained firm, her blue eyes boring into Rio's as though trying to read her mind.

Rio's lips curved into a slow smile. "Because I couldn't stay away."

For a long moment, they held each other's gaze, the silence thick with tension. Rio's pulse - a mere shadow of life, if anything at all - seemed to echo in her throat, but her focus was on the beat of Agatha's heart, its warmth seeping into her through the thin fabric of her shirt. She was alive, vibrant, dangerous...beautiful. She had a strange, aching desire to stay close to this fire, even if it burned her. Her fingers dug into the sheets beneath her, grounding her.