When I die, I'll let go

Absinth chuckled softly, the sound reminiscent of their youthful escapades – why wouldn’t it when her past was looking her in the face? “You’d like to be one of the heathens? Well, they're always on the lookout for talent. But can you handle it, Flare? To run with their lot you have to assimilate, play the cards, let the Sultan think he has your full loyalty.”

She leaned back, a smirk playing on her lips as she regarded him. She wanted to study his face, his reaction to her words. Did he ever think she would be the type to fall in line? Of course, she only fell in line enough. Absinth was never going to be a tamed, docile creature. “Our old fun was raw, desperate, and unpredictable. The heathens, they have rules. Enemies. Consequences.” She pauses here, turning her body in such a way as to show him the scarred patchwork of her ribcage. “They play at sophistication, but underneath it all, they're just as if not more ruthless as we ever were.”

Her gaze softened slightly as she continued, though she was honestly giving him all the information he needed. A sincerity she did not always offer others. She had made her choice, what would he decide? “The choice is yours. Free will to sign your life away to devils. At least for the time being~ I can't deny, there's a certain thrill in the games they play. It's a different kind of survival, one that requires a sharper wit and a colder heart than most have. I adapted, I’m sure you have too. Maybe you'd enjoy it, maybe you'd hate it. But one thing's for sure – I'd rather have you as an ally than an adversary in this world.” She paused, her eyes locked with his, the challenge still present but now mixed with a hint of genuine curiosity and sentiment. “So, Flare, are you looking for a new adventure? Or are you just here to reminisce about the good old days?” The woman’s tail lashed behind her, her smaller frame moving to push into his space yet again, and if he weren't so damn tall now she could have been eye level. But there she was, waiting for response all the same with those blazing emeralds that beckoned more from him.
wormwood