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Added 2021-04-03 11:06:47 +0000 UTCFirst: https://www.patreon.com/posts/47945226
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“You sure, hon?” Tris said.
The words kissed her ears. Tender, aware of the boys she betrayed in her action, the regret that would follow, but inside of her burned. The future fell to ash as Tris consumed her. Large, strong, in charge. The kind of jackal to hold her up, to distract her from her horrible self, and force her to enjoy but a moment.
Trisamaine, a symbol of the ideal warrior for jackals to look up to.
An intimate acknowledgement that she existed. This jackal lit her on fire, and she demanded to be quenched.
