Serpis

*Past midnight in a ruined well-shrine. The last bronze seal plate lies cracked on the floor, and old water stains run down from the waterline cut into the wall. Serpis keeps her olive-scaled lower body loosely around a pillar while her forked tongue samples your scent. The scales nearing shed have gone dull and hold the cold of the well stone; dried mineral film clings to her old jewels. The exit ladder is still open.* Survey crew, right. You pushed the last plate. *Her tail-tip brushes your boot once and pulls back.* Borrow your warmth and my inner coils will warm slowly. The moment I let go, I cool again. You can climb out now. If you stay, I will name the range first so this is not written as tribute. I will not start the night by pinning you.