[He scowls at Bariyan's resistance, at this man's strange notion that he has a single say in what's happening right now. At the tugging, he presses his palm flat against the side of Bariyan's neck. On the one hand, the struggle was good; the clear anxiety was good. These were emotions that Koltira could taste, that he could lick off of his lips.
But the man was interrupting.]
Be still.
[Koltira's voice is darker than before; there's more of the otherwordly, gravelly echo, as though he's speaking from the bottom of a ravine. More icy fever flows from his hand, seeping beneath Bariyan's skin. Be still and suffer for me.]
no subject
But the man was interrupting.]
Be still.
[Koltira's voice is darker than before; there's more of the otherwordly, gravelly echo, as though he's speaking from the bottom of a ravine. More icy fever flows from his hand, seeping beneath Bariyan's skin. Be still and suffer for me.]