sippin' waterfalls [mortis]

a voice drifts through the air, dragging her gaze from the pool. sulfur in the water. she grants him a sheepish smile, full of self-deprecation and gratitude - but a spike of betrayal jabs her, too. it is foolish, but the water had looked so serene, so innocent - to learn of its dangers was to understand, in some sense, that she’d been duped. it is a silly notion, one she dismisses immediately; water was not sentient, and could not, therefore, intend to deceive.

“my savior,” Dulla teases, voice light and sing-song. "i owe you a life debt.” she trails from the pool’s edge and considers the stranger with a curious tilt of her head, admiring the feathered wings trailing from his back. often, as a girl, she’d wished to fly. “might i know your name, hero?”