she takes an awfully big chance inviting her. beckett finding her was only the beginning of her other self being uncovered. she has little trust for a man that can parallel her in her own reserve, that can hold his own among her games. 

the smart thing to do would have been to have fernando take her in, never show her the light of day again. and she might have been content with that - wrapped in his mists while they made love, stretching the muscles of her brilliant mind to do his bidding. 

and being closer to it. 

she totters away from her easel and opens the door to her gallery. "you look well, little kitten," she purrs and then gestures for eden to come in. she leaves a placard above the door that says closed for private showing in a looping scrawl and then locks the door behind her. 

"as well as you can, that is, given the circumstances. have your wounds fully healed?"

@eden

☉

his kecleon cling to the ceiling, camouflage rendering them nigh invisible. the only reason she knows it's there is because of her lions. shiva eyes the spot every once in a while, tail flicking to let her know that their watcher is still there. 

but she is not afraid, nor bothered. fernando watches her for her own protection. and to safeguard his prized possession. 

she does not inform of its presence to the woman that passes through her threshold. no, instead she takes her hand and draws her to the corner of her gallery, where a canvas waits. a burlap cover shields it from view and anya tugs this free. it falls to the ground and reveals an abstract view of anger, of fury, of release. of power and becoming one's own. 

"consider it a housewarming gift. you've been my muse as of late."

@eden

☉