Hisshh~
The quiet crackle of the fireplace in Yara's home barely filled the tense silence as Aestrea stepped through the door.
His boots dragged slightly against the polished floor, leaving behind faint, dark smudges—blood.
His clothes were soaked in it, and not all of it was his.
Cuts and tears ran down his coat and pants, but none of it seemed to bother him. His crimson eyes, glowing faintly, were as cold as ever.
"You're finally bac...?"
Yara looked up from her chair by the fire, raising an eyebrow at him.
She was sprawled lazily, a book resting open in her lap. Her ink hair shimmered under the firelight, and her sharp gaze flicked up and down his figure.
"Where did you...?" Her voice trailed off, her tone was more curious than concerned.
"You look like you just came back from slaughtering a whole army." Her fingers tapped the edge of her book lightly as her lips curled into a mischievous smile.
At her words, Aestrea shrugged, brushing past her.
