Lynnori Cruz
S̸a̢int
roman holiday, phrase; an occasion on which enjoyment or profit is derived from others' suffering or discomfort.
Zeltros, Zeltros (City), Residential Districts, Early EveningShame | Interacting with [member="Kole Harper"] ~ Roman Holiday ~ "Do you remember the taste of my lips the night we stole a bit of my mother's perfume?"
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How, in Hell, was she back here?
Ever since landing on Zeltros, Lyn had been jumpy. It came with the territory of the planet deeply steeped in pheromones and empathic communication, where pink-skinned fellows leaned out of windows to lure anything with a heartbeat in to 'join the party', or musings and tuggings in Lyn's mind trying to entice her over to do God-only-knew-what. The surprisingly tight-grip she kept on the HRD's hand astride her was the only thing, relatively speaking, that was keeping her sane. Focusing on the empty space in reality that was Kole Harper served to anchor the Zeltron as she marched down streets that seemed familiar and foreign.
Why had she let herself get talked right into this again, she couldn't even recall.
Vanishing for almost a month on the route to the strange planet Neos had made her think. The bad kind of thinking, that led to ideas such as these. Lyn's folks had been left in the dark for nearly four years -- If she'd really just disappeared, never returned from that crazy journey, would they have even known what had happened to her? Would she want them to know?
Well, those were the questions looking to be answered today. Biting the inside of her cheek for a moment before speaking, the Zeltron looked up and over to the taller so-called-Human next to her, exhaling, "Just, remember I said this was a bad idea, alright?" Because it was. It was a bad idea. Even being in the general vicinity of her mother's townhouse (A building Lyn had few fond memories of; it had been the only place her parents had been together, the first place she'd-- Yeah, and the last place she'd lived before running away) seemed to be making her uncomfortable, or at least sweat a little. A free hand wandered up to rub her forehead, scratch the back of her neck as they meandered down the ways she remembered to reach home.