Nasrin's remaining eye flashed with rage at that suggestion and the knife pressed tighter to his skin, threatening to cut him.
"How dare you!" she snarled, face flushing at the suggestion--not from embarrassment, but from anger. "That's my sister, ya filthy goat-fucker! And guess what! I asked for a reason, and that was the wrong reason!"
"Nasrin, stop!" Sahar shouted, putting a hand on her shoulder, and Nasrin fixed her with a fierce glare.
"Sahar, honey, are ya okay? Goddess, I'm sorry I didn't--I know I was late, and I shouldn't have, and--look, just back up, alright. There's only one way to deal with fuckers like this and I don't want ya to see it, but don't worry, he's never gonna touch ya again, alright?"
Sahar blanched. "Wait! No, no! He wasn't--!" Her cheeks burned with mortification. If there was one person she didn't want to know about this, it was Nasrin. But she knew her sister. She knew she would seriously hurt the man, if not worse. "He wasn't...uh...he wasn't hurting me...more the exact opposite, actually..."
Nasrin blinked. "What?"
Nervously, Sahar twirled a braid around her finger and looked away. She cleared her throat. "It's...there's been a bit of a misunderstanding, Nasrin, and...just..." Another awkward clearing of her throat. She crossed her other arm over her breasts, suddenly feeling very aware of her nudity. "Y-you know you can't shed blood here, in a sacred place like--"
"I'll fuckin' drag him out of this temple, Sahar. Now what're ya tryin' to say here?"
Why, goddess, why.
With a deep breath and the squaring of her shoulders, Sahar pressed her lips together and tried to give Nasrin her most imperial look, but it was hard not to feel like a scolded child before the sister that had raised her for a huge chunk of her life. "I consented," she said with a slight lift of her chin while she wanted to sink into the pool and not come back up.