Circe claimed Priya's book to the tune of barely enunciated protests. An utterance of annoyed vowels as the tome was pulled from loose fingertips. She was not as interested in the book as she was in Circe. Close enough to Priya now that her scent left her bewitched. The only geometry the alchemist cared about at present was the shape of Circe's lips. Her only grasp of the scientific method was the steps it would take to discover how the other woman might taste. Priya folded her hands in her lap, no longer having the book to occupy them.
"They Navy does not throw itself at my feet because it loves me," was her snappy retort. She became closer to revealing her true feelings on the matter of it all. It was an inappropriate conversation to be having in the tea shop. Even though they were alone and the cushions and scents of brewing teas and baked goods were cozy and familiar.
Priya reached, unsuccessfully, for her book. It was obvious that she wasn't really trying.
"Can you even read?" She teased with a huff, throwing herself back into the cushions and crossing her arms. Her petulant expression was endearing in ways it was not meant to be. "Or do you require me to read it for you?"
"They Navy does not throw itself at my feet because it loves me," was her snappy retort. She became closer to revealing her true feelings on the matter of it all. It was an inappropriate conversation to be having in the tea shop. Even though they were alone and the cushions and scents of brewing teas and baked goods were cozy and familiar.
Priya reached, unsuccessfully, for her book. It was obvious that she wasn't really trying.
"Can you even read?" She teased with a huff, throwing herself back into the cushions and crossing her arms. Her petulant expression was endearing in ways it was not meant to be. "Or do you require me to read it for you?"
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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