Outside Isabella's tent, Osiris sat there like a man who had just walked into the wrong rehearsal room at the wrong time and the performers were summoning demons.
The night was quiet.
The lagoon shimmered like a dark mirror under the moon's pale glow.
The fire crackled lazily.
And inside Isabella's tent?
CHAOS.
Screaming.
Ranting.
Bedsheets slapping the floor.
A noise that sounded suspiciously like a creature collapsing.
Muffled shrieks about "WHY IS THIS NOT WORKING?!"
One long death-wail that echoed out across the water like someone had just personally told Isabella her favorite lipstick was discontinued.
Osiris sat perfectly still.
Staring.
Frowning.
Thinking:
…I should not have said the word 'tears.' I should have said nothing. I should have pretended I was blind. Or deaf. Or dead. Dead would have been better.
Another scream erupted from the tent, rattling the leaves.
Osiris winced.
