She turned the little bottle over and over again in her hand. Fumbled with the note. Confusion, to some degree, and embarrassment and a hint of pride. Well. She had an admirer, as superficial as it might be. That was something. 

But the other…

Kun placed the note and the bottle aside and got out the little dagger, the sneak blade she’d gotten for Caelryn. Godsdamn, what was it about that girl. And all these stupid, stupid, pain in the ass feelings getting in her way. 

Kun rubbed her eyes and grumbled softly to herself. Her sister was not helping, not to any degree. Bless her.

She rubbed her thumb over the dagger’s sheath. No, she’d let Sis take the lead on that one. Petal never gave herself enough credit, Kun felt. She was sweet and good and kind and….like Cael. That same little spark of light. Maybe that was the attraction? She flopped back on the cot and stared up at the tent’s ceiling. Light. Huh. 

Uncle had talked about that. Some people were born with ambition, some were not. Everyone had gifts, some of which were more hidden then others. Leadership….light, that was one of the hidden ones. The good leaders, anyways. They had something inside them that sparked and crackled like a candle’s flame, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to it. She liked Cael, sure, but…well, how much of that was just some silly crush, fascination with a shy but brutal yaoguai, such ying and yang, and how much…of the light she carried. Some fascinating part of her that made you want to…

Kun fumbled around until she found her little flask, taking a burning sip and wincing. Spirits and ancestors and whomever else might be listening, don’t let the girl’s flame sputter out. It’s buried in shit, an ember covered in peat, but gods don’t let it die. Let it be that moment where someone kicks the turf and a raging fire blazes up.

She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the liquor spread through her limbs, eyes growing heavy. Too many feelings, too many emotions. One eye cracked open, peering at the note the mad demon hunter had left her. A faint smile. 

Maybe later. 

Author Wallaroo
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