Gold Does Not Cool for Her



She rose from the basin like the temple had been waiting for her.
Molten gold clung to wet red hair, slid down her skin, and refused to let go. The crimson suit held, barely.
Steam lifted off the pool. Green eyes found the light in the high window first, then the room, as if she had all the time in the world and the gold would stay warm until she decided otherwise.
The stones remembered heat. Her tail cut a slow arc through the air. Another drop fell from her fingertip and hit the surface, and the whole pool answered with a quiet ring.

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