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“What a supreme waste of time,” the Stilladìa mumbles, running a hand through her now-brown hair. She sighs and leans against Helias, who wraps his arms around her shoulders. “And I even had to down that terrible mixture. Blah,” she spits on her hand, revealing a few blue droplets from the vial which contents she drank before.
“Keep it in,” Helias warns her. “It may turn out useful for something different than Carnaval.”
“Given I have drank it already… perhaps you are right. How long does it last?”
He gives her a quizzical look, raising his blonde eyebrow.
“It should keep its potency for a couple hours at least. Why? Are we not going to face the Sisters right away?”
“And miss the fireworks?” She grins, tilting her head towards the crowd, looking at the Temple of Flame that stands right at the end of the road, the one from which they have just come out from. “Our puppet has one final show for us. So come,” she grabs his hand. “Though I may have a hunch about how this is going to turn out.”
“I may have, too. How about a wager, runt?” He chuckles, rubbing his finger against her tanned cheek.
[cont.]
