Petals of the Damned

Don't Leave

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Agatha and Rio were now sitting across from each other in the living room, a wooden coffee table separating them. Between them were two mugs of tea, a blend that Agatha had made herself with Rio in mind a couple of weeks ago. Agatha was looking at the steam rising from her mug, her fingers resting on the chipped handle, mind half-set on the calm she wished she felt and half-set on the woman across from her who could make that calm impossible.

"So," she said, her eyes finally flicking up to meet Rio's, "you going to tell me if that kiss means the same to you as it does to me?"

Rio tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, I thought it was rather obvious." She paused, leaning forward. "But I guess Death's language can be...lost on mortals."

"Cute," Agatha shot back, though her fingers tightened ever so slightly on her mug. "But 'you could've died' isn't exactly the sweet nothing most people aim for."

Rio's laugh was low. She leaned back, tracing her finger along the edge of her mug. "Well that's where the thrill lies, doesn't it? A little risk with a lot of reward. That kiss could have been, for lack of a better term, a kiss of death." She met Agatha's gaze, her smile dark and knowing. "But clearly, you're still here."

Agatha let out a small, dry laugh. "Comforting. So you're saying I should just be grateful that I survived the encounter?"

Rio raised her eyebrows, eyes glinting with playful malice. "It's not every day that someone gets so close to Death and walks away. Think of it as an honor. Or a rare courtesy."

Agatha scoffed, hiding the flicker of nerves behind a mask of irritation. "Courtesy. Right. I'll add that to the list of things to thank you for."

Rio's smirk softened, and a hint of something more sincere broke through. "But there's more to it than that, Agatha. If all I wanted was to brush my lips against a mortal for a thrill, I've had centuries of opportunities. Let's just say I've 'been' with mortals before—but I've never felt inclined to kiss them. I didn't know what would happen. I haven't wanted to until now." Her gaze turned curious, almost thoughtful. "So, yes, I'd say it's different. And a courtesy."

Agatha's skepticism held firm, though a blush crept up her cheeks. "Right. And can Death even have a crush?" She hesitated for a moment, "Feel love?"

Rio's smile faded slightly, and she looked away, as if the answer was caught somewhere in the far reaches of her own mind. "I think so," she murmured. "I've known fascination, attraction, pity. But love?" She looked back at Agatha, her eyes intense. "If I've ever felt something close to it, it's now, sitting here. And it's confusing as hell."

The words struck Agatha silent for a moment, feeling far too close to an answer she hadn't known she needed. But her guard held. "So," she said, voice low, "what are you really thinking, then? And don't give me some half-hearted excuse about wanting to understand me or study me."

Rio grinned, the flirtatious glint returning. "Fine. I'll spare you the academic interest." She set her mug down and leaned in, her face close enough that Agatha could feel the warmth radiating between them. "I'm thinking," she whispered, "that I enjoy the way you defy me, Agatha. That maybe, you're the first mortal I've ever been drawn to for reasons that aren't born of power or curiosity. Well, at least not anymore."

The air hung thick between them, and Agatha, feeling the tug of Rio's dark intensity, allowed a slight smile. "You'd better keep that in mind next time you think about that 'kiss of death' trick."

Rio's laughter was soft, but unmistakably delighted. "Noted," she said.

As the conversation lulled, Rio glanced over at the couch where Agatha was perched, her legs tucked underneath her, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Mind if I join you over there? I think I've earned a spot a little closer."