Firefly Ravine [M] Pulling the heads from dolls

There was no way for her to release any pent up tension, her legs ready to run at any given moment. The look on his face, the way he moved his head and tried to pretend he was giving her words some thought—it all infuriated her to no end. When he began circling her, that very same irritation multiplied tenfold, as did the tension within her muscles. She could have run, she could have lunged forward and left him in the dust the moment he'd moved out of her way, but she hadn't. Her paws had remained rooted to the ground instead, head moving to each side slowly as she followed his every movement. Sen did not trust him, nor did she trust herself, and that was, perhaps, what bothered her the most out of everything else.

His words had seeped into her at record speed, fueling that which her body desired, giving it more ammunition to use against her conscious self. "It's plenty to run from," the woman had managed to retort, ears falling back as her eyes became slits. By some miracle, she'd succeeded in taking a step backwards, lengthening the distance between them. Thereafter, her eyes had slid to either side one right after the other, searching for a way out of the trouble she'd thrown herself into.