Work Text:
1.
Unexpected. Sharp. Hungry.
Folykl pulls back abruptly, unwilling to take more. Before she can say anything, Marsti kisses her again.
2.
Careful. A brush of lips against the corner of her mouth, not chaste except by necessity, dizzying and too brief.
3.
Folykl hunches inward, hidden by greasy hair.
“I’m gross, OK? The fuck do you care?”
She doesn’t. She proves it.
4.
Or: a fanged, spidery grin.
“I could be classy and blow you behind a dumpster.”
Not that. Marsti pulls her close instead.
5.
Afterward, Folykl leans heavily against her, shivering. Hair clings to her bare shoulders.
Marsti leans down, offers a little more.
+1.
Dark spots are swimming in Marsti’s vision by the time she reaches the altar. She staggered here, tired from the climb and weak from keeping Folykl tethered to life, but she can do this one last thing.
Folykl stirs as Marsti lays her down on the quest platform, then stills as the breath leaves her body. Marsti bends to kiss her mouth, and aches to feel no familiar chill, just emptiness.
A cold wind sweeps inward. All the lights go out at once.
(And on a distant moon, the Seer wakes and rises. Her hollow eyes are filled with light.)