Renard's blue eyes shifted to Seraphina across the short distance of glowing liquid, his gaze steady and piercing, carrying a weight of unspoken questions.
"Hey, Seraphina, answer me honestly," Renard began, his voice flowing with gentle accusation. "Have you not been too moody lately? And too quick to act on your own impulses? I can't say I appreciated you terminating my attack a while back, overriding my judgment without consultation. You should know I would not jeopardize the lives of mortals like that. I have more control and consideration than you gave me credit for."
"…Renard," Seraphina almost groaned, her voice rolling with a note of weariness, her head tilting back against the stone rim of the magma pool.
Her long pale-blonde hair, usually a smooth waterfall of silk that cascaded down her back in perfect waves, clung to her shoulders and back in heavy, damp strands, weighed down by the oppressive humidity of the cavern.
