#τ::|| anri

[ofspvrta]

Mmph!

μ::|| meme: Send "Stop talking" for your muse to shut mine up by kissing them. Alternatively, send "Mmph!" for my muse to be the one to interrupt yours with a kiss. | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @swordluck

Kassandra likes to talk, but it's rarely the specifics of her business. She leaves the talk about the blood spilled for those who are used to it, the Cult remains a topic that is left unspoken. The hetaerae know Kassandra was the one responsible for getting the Monger and the Cult out of Korinthia. It's talk of her worries in the vaguest of terms. Of family and friends she worries about, of the new scars she comes back with.

Tonight it is nothing in particular, just general chatter, the sort one does when they start to run out of things they haven't already said before. It's just so easy to talk to Anri in the moments leading up to intimacy, it's part of why she visits. But she realizes just how long-winded she had grown when Anri slides onto her lap and presses a kiss to her lips.

"Oh..." She says, pulling back a moment. "I've been rambling. You're right, we should just..." and she pulls her in close to kiss her again, deepening it immediately.

[ofspvrta]

religion is somewhere between fear and sex. – Anri as a priestess of Aphrodite.

μ::|| meme: the passion (1987) | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | anri

It was an interesting way to look at it, she supposed. And such a statement could truly only come from a priestess of Aphrodite. The Goddess of Beauty and Sexual Love. She wasn't fond of most gods, but there was a certain appeal to Aphrodite that she couldn't deny. Maybe it was her affinity for more intimate company and her appreciation for beauty. Or maybe because she really had no issue with the Goddess as opposed to some of the other deities. A thoughtful hum escaped the misthios' lips as she regarded the statue that still stood as gorgeous and empty as it had before.

Fear was a feeling she tried to avoid, there were plenty of things she should be afraid of but just wasn't. Living with her father's voice playing in her head since that night on the mountain, chiding her with lessons taught and making her feel like a little girl again was the closest she'd been to fear in some time. And even now the voice started to fade when she confronted him on the cliffside. Fear now was not being able to save Myrrine, not being able to save Alexios, fear was keeping Phoibe out of trouble (she was still mad at Aspasia for sending a small girl out on her own). But it was never fear for herself.

"Hm, I seem to stay closer to the sex side of things, I couldn't say I've found much religion."

[ofspvrta]

❛ the gods favour you, kassandra. ❜

μ::|| meme: 🌙   *  ―   𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃: 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀 | NOT accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @swordluck

The Gods. The same Gods who favored Odysseus? Those Gods? Her expression falls, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees as she mulls over the words. Of course, coming from a priestess they were meant as high praise and she doesn't question Anri's sincerity. But it's not the kind of thing she wants to be burdened with. Phoibe would say the Eagle Bearer was a goddess, a goddess could have prevented her death. People believed her a demigod, a daughter of Zeus. All things she did not wish to have hovering over her head. Even her mother spoke of their powerful blood.

"If I am favored, it is in the accursed way. Those who gain too much attention from the Gods do not fair well, Anri." She ran her fingers through her hair, sighing. "At least Aphrodite blessed me with you, but I am weary of the favor of other Gods. They come with a burden too heavy to bear."

[ofspvrta]

❛ do i now haunt your dreams? do i warm your loins? ❜

μ::|| meme: 🌙   *  ―   𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃: 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀 | NOT accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @swordluck

Anri never shied from such forward questions, nor did Kassandra shy away from answering them. Why should she? She's shared far more with Anri than just simple words. She's shared her body and her heat at the alter of Aphrodite with the woman, spoken loosely of her woes, nothing too deep, while she never suspected Anri of being a spy for the Cult, it didn't mean there weren't others nearby who were. She still has to be careful. But Anri she trusts.

"You do haunt my dreams, especially the further I get from Korinthia," she says, a light lilt to her voice as she speaks. She leans against the back of the kline, a mischievous grin upon her features. "And my loins warm the closer I get to you."

[ofspvrta]

your lover going to walk away, but you grab them and pull them back in for a kiss before they go.

μ::|| meme: KISS ME .. an assortment of kissing prompts . | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @prismaiden

She had once more brought herself to worship at the temple of Aphrodite in Korinthia. Any time she had felt the weariness of her journey, her feet knew the path, her body knew what it longed for, a touch of a different kind, healing only a priestess of the Goddess could offer. And it was always the priestess with the golden hair she had sought. After all, she had promised to come to worship with her when she felt that call.

It had been another evening where the stars watched from outside the temple entrance, and when their worship had come to an end and Kassandra had armored up once more, she felt a hand at her wrist guiding her back. There was nary any time to protest when she felt Anri press her lips against her's once more. Dangerous as it is, the priestess knows damn well that once Kassandra gets going it's a momentum that's hard to stop.

The misthios shifts to turn to face her fully, taking her back into her arms and kissing her deeply. The feeling of honeyed lips and a wine-soaked tongue against her own. For a moment the Spartan breaks free from the kiss, lips a whisper away from Anri's. "Careful now, or I'll start to think Aphrodite requires more tribute."

[ofspvrta]

i keep it for luck. – from Maria, as a Daughter of Artemis.

μ::|| meme: the passion (1987) | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | maria

The day's hunt brought the night's feast. The Daughters around the fire spoke of their greatest hunts, sharing in the spoils of great victories and the respect of the beasts that they had slain. The scent of roasting meat wafted through the village, and bellies grew full with the bounty of food. The stag was the star of the feast, but ibex and heron filled out the rest of the meal. A selection of grapes and olives and other forged fruits accompanied everything.

As Kassandra recalled her and Maria's hunt earlier that day, the huntress pulled out a small item wrapped in a leather pouch and handed it to the new leader. Glancing down, Kassandra looked at the small item in her hand, uncertain if she was meant to unwrap the item she had been handed. The care taken to protect it was obvious. She glanced up at her new companion, a curious expression on her features.

"It certainly came in handy today. What is it?"

[ofspvrta]

the women, they're always the clever ones. – from Maria, as a Daughter of Artemis.

μ::|| meme: the passion (1987) | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | maria

The position of the leader of the Daughters of Artemis did not come without a heavy heart. There was no joy in killing Daphne, a woman Kassandra had come to respect and maybe even love in her own way, but it was the way of their tribe. One of the Daughters had sought Kassandra out, asking to hunt alongside her, to see just how legendary their new leader truly was. There was an abundance of curiosity regarding Kassandra. She slew all the legendary beasts and whispers of what her skills must be like echoed through the village.

Maria knelt beside Kassandra as they eyed a particularly large red deer. Head and horns taller than the others around it. It wasn't quite as impressive as the Hind Of Keryneia, but it certainly was quite the sight all the same. As golden eyes focused on the beast's movements, her companion spoke. The does seemed to be corralling the fawns while the stag looked to demand attention.

"Huh. You're not wrong." She said, nocking an arrow and drawing the bowstring taut.

[ofspvrta]

with faith, all things are possible. – with Anri as a priestess of Aphrodite, perhaps?

μ::|| meme: the passion (1987) | accepting [ Ξ ]

θ::|| @decidentia | anri

She had come seeking information on her mother's whereabouts, and even though Anthousa had promised to tell her what she knew, Kassandra knew she was going to have to put in quite a bit of effort to get what she wanted. Everything was transactional, nothing was freely given in this world, not even for a daughter looking for her mother. The statue of Aphrodite stood tall above the misthios and the worshippers strewn about, marble face staring down, immaculate in its beauty and yet emotionless. An effigy and little more.

A voice behind her had interrupted her quiet thoughts, one of the priestesses that tended to the temple. One of the few that hadn't been scared off by the Monger's men, no doubt. Kassandra only turned slightly to glance at the fair-haired woman. Even the priestesses were beautiful, though she supposed a goddess such as Aphrodite would expect nothing less.

"Depends on what that faith is in. I put faith in myself and my blade, it gets the job done."

[ofspvrta]

Sometimes pockets of safety were necessary when shows got especially rowdy in smaller venues. The rules still existed, and luckily the crowd listened when she told them to back off. A situation that could have gone bad if they didn't check themselves at the sound of her barking command. But here, on a table at the edge of the venue, they were safe. Or, at least Anri was. Kassandra never minded the thrill or the danger.

Not everyone could thrive in the belly of the beast, but there were still rules and etiquette that were there to protect those who wanted to enjoy the shows but not necessarily leave a little roughed up and bruised from the push and pull of the pit. Jumping right in with no experience was a good way to leave with a black eye or some bruised ribs if one wasn't careful. Kassandra lost a tooth once, but she had long ago found those also regenerated. Kassandra's only worry was being injured enough that her Isu markings would start to show, there was a show or two where she had to dip because she took a blow too hard or was accidentally sliced by a spiked bracelet (another thing to look out for, she had noted).

Anger was one of the few emotions that while it had simmered down in her advanced years, had never quite dulled entirely. So many emotions had weakened with time as a defense or because she had no one to share them with. But anger... anger at her situation in life, at her loneliness, at the futility of her task, oh that always simmered beneath the skin. Slithering under her flesh like a cobra posing to strike at any time. Anger was her friend and the music was her release.

But her kindness was never in short supply to those who needed it. The world was cruel, why should she contribute to that?

"Exactly." She said, leaning forward as she tipped her beer in Anri's direction. The smile on the woman's face sparked that recognition again and she pondered on all those she knew in her lifetimes so long ago. Anri was an old name. One she was certain had rested on her lips before. It was just a matter of when that name was spoken, and how.

Kassandra had a way about her, while Anri had seemed timid like a deer exposed in a field, the Keeper always had the poise of an apex. Alert to her surroundings at all times, ears tilting her head in the direction of anything that could be a threat. And yet, she was clear in her presentation that Anri would not be her prey. If anything, Kassandra would be her protector.

How could the Keeper not watch her? Part of it was born out of a sense of protectiveness, she saved her from the pit, and she could save her from any other threat that came her way. She was a protector of the people, after all. Even if not one of them knew the level of power that lingered in their presence. But part of it may have been an attraction that felt older than it should have. Kassandra hadn't been with anyone for nearly 70 years now, the loneliness gathered in her collecting dust and weighing on her heart.

"That's the kind of attitude you need in the pit. A little pain is the name of the game, part of the release the pit provides." She leaned back in her chair, another swig of her beer washing down her throat. "But you don't have to be in the pit to have a good time."

Kassandra let out a low chuckle, swirling her beer in the bottle. The Keeper had to learn the rules the hard way the first time she went. Curiosity had gotten the better of her when she heard loud music playing out of a large venue and snuck into the show and it had been her biggest indulgence in normality since. Her one human treat she allowed herself. Metal shows.

As Anri leaned forward, Kassandra met her, a mischievous grin wearing on her face. "Most of the rules are unspoken, but one of the biggest is wear black, but don't wear a shirt of the band you're coming to see. It makes you look too eager, like a fangirl. You have to have a detached coolness." It was a silly rule but probably the easiest to follow. "It's a mistake a lot of first-time metalheads make."

The weight of the moment pressed against her ribs, as though she had been caught in the pull of some great tide.  Music crashed around them – a ceaseless snarl of guttural roars and relentless percussion – but here, in the narrow pocket of space Kassandra had carved out, there was an eerie stillness, the eye of the storm.

Slayer.  She knew the name, would have surely recognised the songs – Horace never failed to take control of the sound system in his beat-up van, after all.  Anri exhaled slowly, aware of the barrier Kassandra had formed against the frenzied sea of bodies just beyond.  She had always thought herself capable in a quiet and enduring way, but here, in the volatile, sweat-slicked underbelly of the city’s night, she had been a breath away from being devoured.  It was a strange thing, to be pulled from the edge – to be noticed at all.

Kassandra spoke of anger.  Anri rarely allowed herself the indulgence of that emotion, most often feeling it on behalf of others, at suffering meted out for suffering’s sake, all while burying her own.  What would it be like to let it out – to thrash it from her limbs, cast it into the pit and let the music take it apart?  She wondered what Kassandra had to be angry about, and how she managed to stay kind despite it.

Because it was kind of her, this gesture, this quiet offering of company.  Anri visibly brightened at the prospect, relief softening the subtle strain in her features.

“Strength in numbers,” she agreed, her smile growing in the dark.

Stepping away from the wall, her pulse still drumming against her skin – though whether from the music or something else entirely, she could not say – she moved to the table Kassandra had gestured toward.  The cheap plastic chair scraped faintly as she settled into it, the world tilting slightly as she did, whether from adrenaline or the single drink she had managed to sink before the night unravelled, she wasn’t sure.

Kassandra followed, unhurried, dropping into the seat across from her with a languid, leopard-like ease.  Even in repose, there was something coiled in her, something that spoke of old instincts and sharper edges.  Gone was the wariness from her expression.  If anything, she looked entertained.

Anri ducked her head, tracing idle patterns in the condensation on her cup.  She wished she had something clever to say, something to smooth over the awkward, residual tremor in her nerves, but she had never been the sort to charm with words, and Kassandra –  well, Kassandra didn’t seem like the type who needed them.  She was all presence, all certainty.

The lights overhead sputtered and flashed, momentarily bathing them in violent red before plunging back into bruised shadow.  Kassandra was watching her.  Anri could feel her gaze, golden and assessing – and yet, it wasn’t just Kassandra’s attention that excited her.  It was something deeper, something she couldn’t name.  Something beyond the shape of her in the dim light, the tilt of her head, the easy, almost knowing curve of her mouth.  Low in Anri’s belly, butterflies bloomed.

“My friend is probably happier in there than out here.”  A glance towards the pit, as if she might somehow conjure Horace from the churning bodies.  “He doesn’t mind getting hurt.”

She took a sip of her drink, the solitary ice cube within clinking softly against plastic, then continued: “He never mentioned any rules.  I think he just assumed I’d know.” 

A mistake, clearly.  

Anri propped herself up on an elbow, letting herself lean into the unfamiliar gravity of the moment, into that flutter of attraction.

“Teach me, Kassandra,” she said, voice lower, the words slipping into something almost conspiratorial.  “Tell me – what do I need to know?”

[ofspvrta]

These were always the times she hated the most. When she would have to set out again and leave Anri behind to continue her duties as a priestess. But oh, how she loved the way she looked in the amber light of sunset. It set her pale hair ablaze like strands of silken spun gold set upon a pale features. The flowers weren't quite as breathtaking as the priestess, but they would have to do.

A soft sigh passed her salt-chapped lips as Anri's fingers brushed against her own, taking the flowers from the misthios. Goodbyes were never easy. She could promise to the moon and back that she would return, but would she really? It was all up to fate, there was never a guarantee of returning to anything.

The gesture was simple, but it brought such a soft smile to the Eagle Bearer's face. Bittersweet always seemed to be a good word for these moments. Something soft amongst all the death and bloodshed, and yet it was still goodbye. The sound of her crew finishing preparations to disembark grew louder among their quiet on the dock. If Kassandra lingered on it, perhaps she would have made the connection between her ship and their union.

"Perhaps next time, I will bring you the seeds as well, so you can grow your own and count their progress between my visits. A constant reminder of me." She could be quite poetic when she wanted. "I will count it among my own strength in battle." She wasn't very religious, but sometimes faith from others was all she needed.

Kassandra often looked forward when disembarking from shore, except when Anri saw her off. Something about not being willing to let go just yet. There was peace in her arms, whether gentle or intense, it was still peaceful. A place where she was not subject to the stings of battle, only the soft caresses of a woman removed from war. They contrasted well against each other.

A light chuckled loosed from her lips, a flirtatious smile stretching across her features, "I may have to rest the whole day prior, if that is the case. You'll have me battle weary without ever lifting my sword. But I look forward to it."

Barnabas was calling out to the sailors to finish the preparations, it was nearly time. Oh to have even a few more hours, but alas, she had Cultists to kill.

"I hope to be back sooner than last time."

Iris Yellow– Passion

The sun hung low over the Aegean, its light turning brine into liquid gold. Kassandra stood bathed in the glow, her haloed form like a goddess kissed by starfire. Clutched in her hand, an offering of yellow irises, their petals soft and ruffled, in hues from buttercream to honey. At the heart of each bloom, deeper shades of amber and ochre spiralled outward in delicate lacework.

Anri took the gift with a quiet joy, her fingers deliberately stroking against Kassandra’s beneath the veil of green spurs. Between them, the air was sticky with nectar, heavy with unspoken words. Such was the atmosphere before any departure.

Murmuring her gratitude, Anri reached out to tuck a loose strand of Kassandra’s hair behind the shell of her ear. Already, her dark tresses had begun to stiffen with salt. Behind the misthios, the loaded and readied Adrestia loomed, riding the small, shining waves of the harbour. It was a good omen, perhaps, that the ship bore the name of Adrestia, the daughter of Aphrodite and Ares. Here, too, was a union between love and war.

“I will look at these often and think of you,” Anri said, her smile soft but touched with a trace of melancholy, her thumb tracing a slender stem. “And I will pray for you. For your every success, for your safe return.”

Soon the trireme would carve its way through the sun-streaked waters, and Anri would stand on the shore, watching until the ship drifted from view. For Kassandra’s part, should she choose to look back – and Anri sorely hoped she would – she would see her lover standing at the shore, the string-tied bouquet held close to her chest. The distance would grow, but the bond between them would remain, a thread stretching across the waves, golden and unbroken.

“When you do return,” Anri added, her voice slipping into a teasing lilt, “I will make love to you for five days and five nights.”

Over the sea of cheerful yellow faces, she gazed fondly at Kassandra. The cornflower blue of her eyes brightened, her smile shifting into one a little less forlorn.

“So hurry back, won’t you?”

[ofspvrta]

The days in Korinthia were long, avoiding the mongers men, helping Anthousa keep her women safe from the Mongers dirty mitts. It was when dusk settled over the city that she ascends the mountain once more, a pilgrimage to pay holy tribute. But Kassandra has never been particularly pious, her tribute is less to Aphrodite and more to the woman who serves as her priestess. She arrives freshly bathed, the dirt and blood of the days activities washed clean from her body. She wouldn't want to sully any of Anri's white robes with the grit of her work.

Even then she carries the scent of leather, salt, and iron on her, as any warrior worth their claim would smell. Sandals clap against the stairwell, loud enough to announce her presence before her silhouette darkens the moonlit temple. The braziers lining between the pillars cast her in golden light and dark shadows as she walked in, pausing only at the top to await the priestess she's come to know so well in her time in the city. It is the first time she's been able to visit in the last few days, keeping away both for the sake of Anri's safety, and to make sure a certain little girl didn't follow her on yet another outing. These were private matters.

Anri's golden hair practically glows in the firelight as she approaches, a near ethereal being in the dark of night. Even with her pale blonde hair, she seemed made of silver against Kassandra's golds. The woman offered her hand which Kassandra gladly accepted, placing a gentle kiss to her palm. Her thumb traces the heart line of her palm, golden eyes flickering with want in the heat of the braziers. She'd been thinking about her for days, the priestess constantly somewhere on her mind. Every encounter they'd shared was nothing short of breathtaking. Tangled in one another under the watchful gaze of the pale moon.

"You knew I couldn't stay away for long. Not from you." She leaned up taking the woman's hand and bringing it too her lips once more as she kissed each individual finger. "Come now," she murmured in a hushed tone, "we've kept Aphrodite waiting long enough, haven't we?" Even now she's thinking of the priestess and her skilled hands traveling the planes of her muscles.

👀

Send me a "👀" and my muse will give 3 things they find physically attractive about your muse.

It was easy to imagine that a divine thread pulled her onto the stylobate. That something delicate as milkweed floss or spider silk had encircled her wrist, or stitched itself into her very heart roots. Outside, the twilight sky was draped in shades of mauve and mulberry, deepening until the first stipples of early stars appeared. Framed by the towering columns of pillars, Anri watched and waited. Birch-limbed, the butter-blonde of her hair crowned with starburst blossoms of myrtle. Braziers stained her with the scent of woodsmoke, outlining her silhouette with ember light – and revealing the battle-ready figure climbing the path.

Anri knew their identity even before she noticed the dusk-dressed edges of eagle wings circling above. With the day’s last dying breath, Kassandra made her way towards the temple, calves kissed by the bobbing, blood-red faces of Aphrodite’s beloved red anemones. It had been days since their last encounter – days full of love and light, but no less relentless for all the joy they brought.

There was much to admire in the misthios. That darling, daring mouth. Prone to smirks, and capable of delivering kisses carrying more heat than midday sandstone. Those arms – scar-licked and strong – that so often formed a welcome cage of bone and sinew. Arms that lifted and pushed and wrapped and held, arms that felt like a second home. That heavy plait of umber hair, pulled forward over a shoulder. Unbraided, it seemed it was made for the sole purpose of slipping soft and kinked through the spaces between the priestess’ fingers.

Anri held out her hand now, as Kassandra mounted the marble steps, smiling demurely as it was accepted, turned over, a kiss planted in the well of her powder-soft palm. From here she could smell the scent of the sea, carried on the misthios’ sun-soaked skin.

“The night is made all the more beautiful by your presence, dear Kassandra.”

[ofspvrta]

There was a sense of familiarity with the woman between her and the wall, but it was hard to tell in the low and flickering lights of the venue. Regardless, she seemed out of place, unfamiliar with the controlled chaos that reigned at these shows. For Kassandra's part, this was her first time at this venue, she rarely visited the same club twice; her travels kept her from having such a luxury, or displeasure.

She didn't even know the band, but the vibes were right, heavy, crunchy, vocals absolutely fried with some clean singing thrown in. Though she could go for the dirtiest sounding vocals imaginable, she didn't need to understand the words, just the feeling, the thumping of war drums in her chest. But her attention right now remained more on the woman she saved from being swept away in the pit.

"Anri." Now that is a name she hasn't heard in some time. Was that where the sense of familiarity came from? "I like that name."

The second hi was cute, the poor thing was clearly nervous.

Kassandra was ever the protective type at these shows. It didn't matter how, she always ended up where she needed to be to find those who were at risk and swoop in. Whether it was to keep someone from being crushed by the crowd, or to stop a creep from harassing another concertgoer. She didn't want Anri to feel uncomfortable around her, especially if she wasn't familiar with the scene and the rules.

"We all have to have a first one." She said, smiling. "Mine was Slayer. Just jumped right into it." There were some fond memories of that show. "Hey now, if you don't make a few mistakes you never learn for the next time." She gestured to the empty table next to them so they could take a seat and she wouldn't have to loom over her the entire time. "Well, if you want, I can wait with you until your friend returns. Strength in numbers, right?" Even if she had trouble communicating with people sometimes, these kinds of places made it easier for her to blend in and feel more comfortable.

Kassandra didn't move yet, waiting for Anri to indicate she wanted to sit down. Golden eyes observed her smaller frame, pale skin, and fair hair. Familiarity clicked again, a face she knew a long time ago. She's beautiful regardless, and Kassandra couldn't help the somewhat flirty expression on her face. She didn't do this often anymore, but sometimes, eternity was so very lonely.

"I do. Whenever I get a chance. The energy is just unmatched. Sometimes you're just angry at the world and you wanna let it out by going to a show and slamming against other people in the pit." It was certainly healthier than other avenues she used in the past. Taking a sip of her beer, she pushed herself off the wall, still standing in front of her.

She shoves her scarred hand into her pocket, taking a more relaxed posture this time. "Did your friend, Horace, tell you about the rules of a metal show? If not, I'd be happy to tell you."

⚘ @ofspvrta // cont.

Anri’s chest heaved, the chaos of the crowd still rolling in her ears like thunder over the sea. Her fingers, trembling slightly, clutched the strap of her bag tighter as she looked up at the woman who had intervened. There was something magnetic about her – a tangible weight to her presence that left Anri momentarily mute.

The bassline of the next song thudded through the venue, relentless and raw, but it felt distant compared to the clarity of Kassandra’s voice. Even as the crowd churned and bounced just beyond the small bubble of space the woman had carved out, Anri felt oddly safe. It wasn’t a sensation she expected to find here, amidst the storm of bodies and sound.

“Kassandra,” Anri repeated, her usually soft voice laced with just enough force to carry over the music. “I’m Anri. Hi.”

Oh hell, that was her second hi.

Anri fidgeted self-consciously at her damp sleeve, half-wishing she could vanish into the crowd. Yet Kassandra’s cocky smile wasn’t cruel and there was no ridicule in her gaze – only a glimmer of humour that seemed to soften the edges of her imposing demeanour. Even the casual clink of their plastic cups felt like a reassurance that Anri hadn’t entirely misplaced herself in this wild, energetic place.

“It’s my first show,” Anri admitted, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I think I’ve already made every mistake possible. I lost my friend – Horace – somewhere in… all of that.” She gestured vaguely towards the pit, the motion betraying her unease. “He’ll be fine, of course. And I’m doing better now – thanks to you.”

A tentative smile played across her lips, though her heart still hammered in her chest. She glanced up at Kassandra again, studying the angles of her face, the faint scars, the strength and power in her stance. This was someone who had weathered far more than wild crowds and heavy riffs. There was a story there – dozens, maybe hundreds – but they were hidden behind a smile that was both inviting and enigmatic.

“Do you come to shows like this often?” Anri asked, seeking to fill the vibrating space between them, even though the answer seemed obvious. Her fingers twisted the strap of her bag absently in a small, grounding motion as she tried to focus on Kassandra instead of the noise and chaos that threatened to creep back in.

For reasons she couldn’t quite name, Anri hoped Kassandra would stay. There was something comforting about her presence, even if it was wrapped in leather, scars, and the scent of beer and fresh sweat. She seemed effortlessly cool, the kind of person who always knew where she belonged – and made her home there.