Work Text:
The Author breathes out thick smoke.
“Where’d you learn to do that, Author?” Blink quips, leaning back as the smoke encroaches on her as she slinks around it, slipping into her mask—
”Well, what would you do with it then?”
Lunar— who is not pouting! —bites back at Yumi— the Compound’s favourite brat, she reminds herself again. Yumi giggles and makes a clawing gesture with their hands, giving a playful growl.
“I’d be like those dragons in cartoons!! I saw one once where they got all angry, and then they just breathed out smoke! I’d scare all the villains when I got angry, so they wouldn’t want me angry and just give up, and then— and then—“
Lunar swats the back of Yumi’s head.
“It’s not smoke, you dingbat! That’d hurt you!”
But Yumi just sticks their tongue out, and Lunar spends the rest of her break talking about powers— her power —with this little oddball of a kid.
Horror. That’s it. That’s the feeling that strikes her, like something serpentine, like a pissed dragon.
Blink— Lunar falters dead in her tracks, the smell of her own toxin reaching her nose.