Maui was jabbering about something to her, she not paying attention and thinking about the admission letters she sent out. She wants to major in Creative Writing with a minor in Linguistics. The door opened, drawing her attention.
The girl who entered had dark hair, wearing a dark leather jacket. She looked like she could walk across a battlefield and never look away. She gave a small smile, showing fangs that made Phoebe think that if she spoke, it would be a wolf’s howl.
“Phoebe? Phoebe, are you okay?”
She blinked, seeing Maui. “What?”
“You do realize you poured an entire pot of hot coffee on your feet, right?”
Ah, so that was what that burning was.
The next time the girl entered, Phoebe noticed the crow feathers in her hair and how sharp her lips were. (She has never craved pain, but Phoebe admits that she now wonders.) There was an aura around her, like death and war. The girl ordered fish and chips.
But the third time Phoebe was caught staring. The girl gave her a grin worthy of battle and she wondered what her lips would taste like. She found out later as they kissed behind the pub, the girl’s cold hands gripping her shoulder as she knelt to kiss her.
“Phoebe.” She said when she pulled away, mind entranced.
“Nice to meet you. I’m the Morrigan.”
And she isn’t surprised.
