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An Ophidian dying of his own venom. A poisoner with no where left to go. The last lot of the night.
RUELLE
I told a nine-foot venomous predator he was dying. Then I told him to buy me.
His venom should burn. It doesn’t. It rewrites my heartbeat to match his. It does something else I’m not writing in the notebook yet.
I came for a roof and a locked door. The specimen was not part of the plan.
SIRATH
Two thousand gold for a woman nobody wanted. She told me my dried meat tastes like someone preserved it out of spite. She asks questions I haven’t answered in thirty years. She keeps count of every time I almost laugh.
Every bite I give her is changing her. And I’ve spent my whole life afraid of exactly what that means.
