@Aries maybe? aw though!<3
some history details have been dropped!
some history details have been dropped!
the earth is spongy underpaw and it only takes a moment to realise that it is simply slick with none other than the blood of both enemies and allies but still all wolves, all her own kind. it's considered so natural now to have to stand on the remnants of the fallen and suddenly she doubles over- a gag escaping her blackened lips before morphing into a hitched moan. although she stands now on the dark hill as an adult- the memory stems from the mind of a yearling. she can feel the fresh, untreated wounds cut into her flesh burning as they were left to fester and most of all she can feel the fear. it's all mixed in with disgust, self-hate and pain but it rolls together to create the nastiest fear. there's also the loneliness, as crippling as the exhausted anxiety keeping her on edge. the only way to stay alive.
screams
cries
snarls of glory, outrage and loss
and blood...
so
much
blood.
it fills her nose, her mouth and suddenly all she can see is red and her fur is slicked to her sides as she struggles against the thick liquid suddenly engulfing her. yet such feeble movements are nothing and she's quickly overpowered by the crimson substance- the hot stench filling everything and the urge to puke is prominent yet her stomach's rolls can do nothing against the tide as suddenly her lungs are full and she's drowning. but maybe she deserves it, is this the blood of the wolves she's slain? or the comrades that have fallen on her orders. all she can see is red and she's falling, falling, falling....
she's back on the hill but whilst before everything was observed through fiery, vivid images- now everything feels icy cold. the burning wounds are sharp scars but the pain is dull and distant. the screams sound as if they're coming from deep under muddy waters and the wolves falling are bloodless and inanimate shadowy figures. she feels nothing and like a bird of prey she descends upon the remaining shadow wolves on massive black wings of death that block out all the light until there's just nothing.
now she's back on the hill and there's something else this time. like the first green sprout after a forest fire that's charred everything else to blackened ashes- hope begins to blossom. because she's no longer by herself, he's there and pain blossoms in her present self- strong enough to penetrate the haze at the sight of him. this time things are vibrant once more as they stand on the hill but the vibrancy is one of stardust and emerald blades of grass swaying in the breeze. everything is fresh. there's more too, another presence this time within her. she's pregnant. they stand together- soft earthen fur mixing with her ghostly hairs. eyes of sage meet dark orbs and they smile before looking up to the sky. it's nearly time, time for them to go and seek their great perhaps.
back in the real world she shifts slightly, the softest of whimpers drifting from a sleeping but clearly distressed form. she knows what's about to come and she cannot bear the idea of reliving it.
she lies injured, blood pooling from her hindlegs as her broken body heaves with sobs. they're gone, her children....and with them her hope of a future. bleary eyes lift as he reaches her, shouting something she can't quite understand but the panic in his gems for eyes will never be forgotten. then they're there and she's screaming but she's useless as they launch themselves upon him and just like that, right in front of her- he is torn to pieces- the one wolf she'd ever come to care about, to love with the intensity of a thousand fires. unable to do anything but lie in her own mess and scream, she feels a part of herself die with him and all she can do is SCREAM, SCREAM
SCREAM.
"FAOLAN
NO
FUCK
FAOLAN
PLEASE NO
NO
FAOLAN!!"
a gasp is all that's emitted to express her distress as she is sent tumbling back to the present via waking up. her fur is stuck to her sides with sweat as she pants heavily, eyes wide and panicked. fuck, fuck, fuck,
fUCK
she hadn't had such a vivid dream in a long time and has no clue what brought it on as a quiet moan drifts from her and her head falls upon pale paws- eyes squeezed shut. his name, his damn name. she hadn't even allowed herself to think it since that day, it'd hurt so much so she'd resigned to referring to him as he. a strange coping mechanism but she'd convinced herself it'd helped wether it did or not. her throat is bone dry as her tongue runs over cracked lips, it feels like she'd been screaming outside of her dream state despite it not being true. but right now she just knew she needed water, that she could do, right?
swallowing, she pushes herself shakily to her paws and stumbles through the forest- lacking her usual grace until she comes across the first water source. crouching down she focuses on nothing more than lapping up the cool liquid- starting to feel better as the remnants of the dream begin to fade as the soft noises of her forest in the depths of night come forth to soothe her. still, she's shaken and as she remains crouched at the water's edge, she can see the shine to her eyes despite no tears managing to break through as the stars continue to twinkle tauntingly high above.
![[Image: ezgif-com-gif-maker.gif]](https://i.postimg.cc/0jGdFRQ6/ezgif-com-gif-maker.gif)
not the greatest post in the world because i'm very tired but wanted to get one up :D
He had become, in the days of his return, an omnipresence - always there, but never quite visible. The shadows swathed his figure with stygian grace, and he embraced this unilluminated beauty; it was a gift, surely, to be born into such iniquity, masked by this auspicious cloak, and he savoured the woods' canopies, who cast down the shadows of the convulsing trees; they lined the territory as soldiers, standing guard. The ravens scrutinized from their treetop keeps. He regarded them, too.
Such esoteric creatures. The Silencer was not one to bother himself about nature bar in it's most raw of forms, but, when displayed to him in such an empyrean manner, he could not help but observe - the ravens, they were a symbol of blackfeather. The unspeaking watchers. This is why it had come as little revelation to witness a cloak of tenebrosity, newly lurking beside Tundra whenever their paths seemed to cross; which had occurred with a higher scarcity than he had originally anticipated...
But, there was her scent. And there, swooping low betwixt the branches, was a raven - beneath, her wavering steps dove, a delphic enigma for his mind to solve. It was without her archetypal hiemal finesse, and it was this which piqued his intrigue more than anything else; so atypical of the girl, to let down her guard, and while sweeping silently through the undergrowth to encompass her tracks, a broken shard of the warrioress seemed to let slip. It tumbled free in her quivering, trembling form, and something caught - it fucking caught - in his chest.
Aries damned it.
Perhaps it was because it wasn’t him that was causing this inner turmoil, so pleasing to the eye… it wasn’t him concocting the atmosphere of sorrow, that something uncharacteristically sour pooled in his stomach. But he couldn't halt his striding steps, gliding forth as a mere ghost, a skeletal soldier, and he did not stop, until he was by the water's edge, maintaining a fair distance between them. For a moment, his gaze does not seek her own - it slides over to the other side of the water source, scanning the treeline in his stereotypical indecipherable stoicism. There was no understanding this expression - it was one entirely void of emotion, his motives unguessable. While some might suggest he was observing for some unwritten danger, others might say he was lost in a clouded trail of thought. Others, in fact, might simply have decided he was doing nothing more than counting the trees.
Tundra.
Finally, glacial shards found their target, beside him, and he allowed his tongue to swipe over frosted incisors, behind sealed lips - there was something so fragile, tenuous about the woman before him now, so unlike that mask of feigned warmth, the strength of a thousand kings to curse him in an adamantine glare. It was almost as though, he pondered, her mask had simply... crumbled. No doubt it might gather itself once more, but, he found himself wondering just how much she hid, somewhere deep in the crevices of her skull. There was plenty more to her than met the surface, this, at least, was evident.
Aries savoured a mystery. But why did it feel so very wrong, this time, of all times?
In a commanding voice of fermenting thunder, his chest vibrating darkly, words finally pierced the veil of silence - "What's wrong?"
How uncustomarily benevolent of him. The slayer reassured himself that it was simply a hitch, and would perhaps continue to toy with her feelings, once he knew what was occurring - but, if he was callously honest to himself?
This time, there was no game, despite the demanding tone of his quiery. He could not fathom why.
Such esoteric creatures. The Silencer was not one to bother himself about nature bar in it's most raw of forms, but, when displayed to him in such an empyrean manner, he could not help but observe - the ravens, they were a symbol of blackfeather. The unspeaking watchers. This is why it had come as little revelation to witness a cloak of tenebrosity, newly lurking beside Tundra whenever their paths seemed to cross; which had occurred with a higher scarcity than he had originally anticipated...
But, there was her scent. And there, swooping low betwixt the branches, was a raven - beneath, her wavering steps dove, a delphic enigma for his mind to solve. It was without her archetypal hiemal finesse, and it was this which piqued his intrigue more than anything else; so atypical of the girl, to let down her guard, and while sweeping silently through the undergrowth to encompass her tracks, a broken shard of the warrioress seemed to let slip. It tumbled free in her quivering, trembling form, and something caught - it fucking caught - in his chest.
Aries damned it.
Perhaps it was because it wasn’t him that was causing this inner turmoil, so pleasing to the eye… it wasn’t him concocting the atmosphere of sorrow, that something uncharacteristically sour pooled in his stomach. But he couldn't halt his striding steps, gliding forth as a mere ghost, a skeletal soldier, and he did not stop, until he was by the water's edge, maintaining a fair distance between them. For a moment, his gaze does not seek her own - it slides over to the other side of the water source, scanning the treeline in his stereotypical indecipherable stoicism. There was no understanding this expression - it was one entirely void of emotion, his motives unguessable. While some might suggest he was observing for some unwritten danger, others might say he was lost in a clouded trail of thought. Others, in fact, might simply have decided he was doing nothing more than counting the trees.
Tundra.
Finally, glacial shards found their target, beside him, and he allowed his tongue to swipe over frosted incisors, behind sealed lips - there was something so fragile, tenuous about the woman before him now, so unlike that mask of feigned warmth, the strength of a thousand kings to curse him in an adamantine glare. It was almost as though, he pondered, her mask had simply... crumbled. No doubt it might gather itself once more, but, he found himself wondering just how much she hid, somewhere deep in the crevices of her skull. There was plenty more to her than met the surface, this, at least, was evident.
Aries savoured a mystery. But why did it feel so very wrong, this time, of all times?
In a commanding voice of fermenting thunder, his chest vibrating darkly, words finally pierced the veil of silence - "What's wrong?"
How uncustomarily benevolent of him. The slayer reassured himself that it was simply a hitch, and would perhaps continue to toy with her feelings, once he knew what was occurring - but, if he was callously honest to himself?
This time, there was no game, despite the demanding tone of his quiery. He could not fathom why.
If I cannot bend Heaven,
I will raise Hell.
I will raise Hell.
August 08, 2019, 03:48 PM
why
what a word, what a fucking word. it could be applied to everything, every single moment of her life could be presented with nothing more than- why.
because well,
why had her mother sold her as a mere baby to those monsters.
why had she even been born if that was her fate.
why had she bore her first scars at a couple of months old.
why had she killed her first wolf at a whopping six months.
why was she a trained soldier, a murderer who'd witnessed war in all its glory by the time she was a yearling.
why had she eventually fallen in love.
why had she gotten pregnant.
why let that hope into her life only to steal it all away on that disastrous day.
and why had she escaped? why not kill her too?
the word plays over and over in her head like a broken record. a neverending chorus of why's until she can't bear seeing that stupid face staring up at her from the water's dark depths- her reflection only visible from the moon's silvery slants dancing across the ripples. she grits her teeth savagely, catching her lip so that blood dribbled down her chin and dripped onto her chest- staining the pure fur with its beautiful vibrancy. she doesn't even feel it.
a low growl breaks free as she swipes viciously at the water, breaking her face apart in the disrupted liquid as she draws back before it can form again, the growls losing their intensity so that it dulls to a soft moan. why did it hurt so much? and she didn't mean the cut on her face, in fact she would've wished it'd hurt more if she was even aware of its presence so it could help drown some of this out. but no, it was like the dream had acted as some sort of bomb being set off and crumbling her carefully built walls so that all the pain she'd supressed since that day hit her now in one great tidal wave.
she felt like she was gonna die.
she wished she would.
then noise, a presence behind her- and a voice. his voice. not the right his, but his.
"what's wrong?"
a scoff shoots from her jaws as she straightens shakily. anger burns deep in her gut now, egged on by all the other negative emotions down there so that it raises its ugly head and spits fire through her whole body. she shakes and turns to face that fucking face. if she'd been herself, able to observe the situation wholly, she'd notice the difference to him, to his voice. she'd realise with surprise that as subtle a change it was, it was present and it revealed something very important. he was being sincere. alas she was not herself and her mind did not catch on to any of the hints and so her defences flared up- presuming he was being his usual dickhead self and using her vulnerability as a chance to mock her. how fucking DARE HE. and how could she let him see her like this, let anyone see her like this.
her tail lashes, eyes blazing as lips peel back into an enraged snarl. "what the fuck do you care?" she doesn't even yell it, it's hissed in a cold sneer. bertók circles above, clearly concerned but aware with the strange unnoticed wiseness only those birds possesed that this was something out of his league. he could be worried for his partner but intervening, at least now, would not help. he'd simply eye the man closely, curious despite his concern as to how he'd take the ghost's outburst.
her chest heaves with fast breaths as she glares, what did he want with her? what was the point of all his stupid games- why wouldn't he just leave her alone, was he really that cruel that he'd prey on her now? the anger starts to fade and with its departure goes her energy, she falls back on her haunches, glaring off to the side before speaking again; tone hushed as she repeats the question yet somehow making it so much more intimate with the mere removal of a few words; "do you care?"
what a word, what a fucking word. it could be applied to everything, every single moment of her life could be presented with nothing more than- why.
because well,
why had her mother sold her as a mere baby to those monsters.
why had she even been born if that was her fate.
why had she bore her first scars at a couple of months old.
why had she killed her first wolf at a whopping six months.
why was she a trained soldier, a murderer who'd witnessed war in all its glory by the time she was a yearling.
why had she eventually fallen in love.
why had she gotten pregnant.
why let that hope into her life only to steal it all away on that disastrous day.
and why had she escaped? why not kill her too?
the word plays over and over in her head like a broken record. a neverending chorus of why's until she can't bear seeing that stupid face staring up at her from the water's dark depths- her reflection only visible from the moon's silvery slants dancing across the ripples. she grits her teeth savagely, catching her lip so that blood dribbled down her chin and dripped onto her chest- staining the pure fur with its beautiful vibrancy. she doesn't even feel it.
a low growl breaks free as she swipes viciously at the water, breaking her face apart in the disrupted liquid as she draws back before it can form again, the growls losing their intensity so that it dulls to a soft moan. why did it hurt so much? and she didn't mean the cut on her face, in fact she would've wished it'd hurt more if she was even aware of its presence so it could help drown some of this out. but no, it was like the dream had acted as some sort of bomb being set off and crumbling her carefully built walls so that all the pain she'd supressed since that day hit her now in one great tidal wave.
she felt like she was gonna die.
she wished she would.
then noise, a presence behind her- and a voice. his voice. not the right his, but his.
"what's wrong?"
a scoff shoots from her jaws as she straightens shakily. anger burns deep in her gut now, egged on by all the other negative emotions down there so that it raises its ugly head and spits fire through her whole body. she shakes and turns to face that fucking face. if she'd been herself, able to observe the situation wholly, she'd notice the difference to him, to his voice. she'd realise with surprise that as subtle a change it was, it was present and it revealed something very important. he was being sincere. alas she was not herself and her mind did not catch on to any of the hints and so her defences flared up- presuming he was being his usual dickhead self and using her vulnerability as a chance to mock her. how fucking DARE HE. and how could she let him see her like this, let anyone see her like this.
her tail lashes, eyes blazing as lips peel back into an enraged snarl. "what the fuck do you care?" she doesn't even yell it, it's hissed in a cold sneer. bertók circles above, clearly concerned but aware with the strange unnoticed wiseness only those birds possesed that this was something out of his league. he could be worried for his partner but intervening, at least now, would not help. he'd simply eye the man closely, curious despite his concern as to how he'd take the ghost's outburst.
her chest heaves with fast breaths as she glares, what did he want with her? what was the point of all his stupid games- why wouldn't he just leave her alone, was he really that cruel that he'd prey on her now? the anger starts to fade and with its departure goes her energy, she falls back on her haunches, glaring off to the side before speaking again; tone hushed as she repeats the question yet somehow making it so much more intimate with the mere removal of a few words; "do you care?"
"What the fuck do you care?"
Her vexation. It erupted upon him as the writhing of an irascible volcano, splenetic magma leaking from her tongue, spiteful ash poisoning the air. She was a tempestuous storm in her acrimonious display, but he did not shift - only watched, mind whirring in disconnected silence. There was a lack of regulation in her tone now, as though the chains of her tongue had loosened enough for her to shake free, remorse dissolving and emotions boiling until they burst from the cavities of her chest.
He wasn't fazed, in all truth.
The Svartell’s heart was void of empathy, even as he met the weight of her furious stare - but that did not mean he would cease to read those emotions, flitting across her expression like fragile paper in the force of the wind, regardless of what he felt. Or rather, the lack of what he felt. Her eyes, they collected secrets, those snippets of emotion diving in droplets to gather in a pitiful pool at their very depths - the colliding shades of her gaze. Anger, despondency, agony. Things he never felt. He was almost envious.
The skeletal king waded in rivers of stoic solemnity, allowing her storm to pour over him, a distinct detachment in the ice of his own polar orbs.
"Do you care?"
It was only then that his body seemed to awaken, the diaphanous softness of her tone melting the cold and throat breaking from the surface of suffocating water - it warped around him as a cloak of warmth, but his limbs seemed to lock, jaw steeling itself as his treacherous stare traced Tundra’s movements. Though she claimed not that dangerous enchantment, in this moment, she was tragically beautiful in sadness. Beguiling. Golden ecru marked her crown, even as it appeared to tip from her skull; carried away by the fathomless ripples beside them - as though her hegemony had slipped, diminished, plummeted out of reach; just like her raven friend.
He forced himself to ponder that query, if only for the intimacy in her voice. Did he care? No. Right? He didn't care. But if that was so, why had he approached, if not to toy with her vulnerability, just as she thought he had? As though, perhaps, she knew more of himself than he did. But that was paradoxical. Right?
A thick silence seemed to fall, a veil of equivocation, where a fracture of his eyes portrayed the conflict in his gut, the churning of his stomach. What was this? It was an ugly feeling, he didn't want it, and as soon as he saw it, Aries shut it off. His body seemed to shift back into place, eyes re-adorning themselves in that dusting of ice, so cold, so empty. She was watching him, she would read his expression.
Feel nothing.
"No." But only a fool would believe such a lie. Tundra was no fool.
Her vexation. It erupted upon him as the writhing of an irascible volcano, splenetic magma leaking from her tongue, spiteful ash poisoning the air. She was a tempestuous storm in her acrimonious display, but he did not shift - only watched, mind whirring in disconnected silence. There was a lack of regulation in her tone now, as though the chains of her tongue had loosened enough for her to shake free, remorse dissolving and emotions boiling until they burst from the cavities of her chest.
He wasn't fazed, in all truth.
The Svartell’s heart was void of empathy, even as he met the weight of her furious stare - but that did not mean he would cease to read those emotions, flitting across her expression like fragile paper in the force of the wind, regardless of what he felt. Or rather, the lack of what he felt. Her eyes, they collected secrets, those snippets of emotion diving in droplets to gather in a pitiful pool at their very depths - the colliding shades of her gaze. Anger, despondency, agony. Things he never felt. He was almost envious.
The skeletal king waded in rivers of stoic solemnity, allowing her storm to pour over him, a distinct detachment in the ice of his own polar orbs.
"Do you care?"
It was only then that his body seemed to awaken, the diaphanous softness of her tone melting the cold and throat breaking from the surface of suffocating water - it warped around him as a cloak of warmth, but his limbs seemed to lock, jaw steeling itself as his treacherous stare traced Tundra’s movements. Though she claimed not that dangerous enchantment, in this moment, she was tragically beautiful in sadness. Beguiling. Golden ecru marked her crown, even as it appeared to tip from her skull; carried away by the fathomless ripples beside them - as though her hegemony had slipped, diminished, plummeted out of reach; just like her raven friend.
He forced himself to ponder that query, if only for the intimacy in her voice. Did he care? No. Right? He didn't care. But if that was so, why had he approached, if not to toy with her vulnerability, just as she thought he had? As though, perhaps, she knew more of himself than he did. But that was paradoxical. Right?
A thick silence seemed to fall, a veil of equivocation, where a fracture of his eyes portrayed the conflict in his gut, the churning of his stomach. What was this? It was an ugly feeling, he didn't want it, and as soon as he saw it, Aries shut it off. His body seemed to shift back into place, eyes re-adorning themselves in that dusting of ice, so cold, so empty. She was watching him, she would read his expression.
Feel nothing.
"No." But only a fool would believe such a lie. Tundra was no fool.
If I cannot bend Heaven,
I will raise Hell.
I will raise Hell.
August 23, 2019, 02:59 PM
what had caused a fracture in her mind had been but an inconvenient blip for the world around her. with her energy snuffed out like the weak flame it truly was, the wood's returned to the peace she'd so selfishly destroyed with her racket. it was as if nothing had ever happened; she could've fucking died or killed someone and the world would carry on as if nothing had happened. the seasons would change, generations grow and die and nothing would ever change. so like...what was the point? why were they these beings capable of such raw emotions; from euphoria to depression to rage to guilt...all chipping away at them and making them stupid, stupid, st u p i d. could they not mindlessly follow nature's path and do whatever the hell they were meant to without all this? she exhales heavily, dull eyes peering up at the monste- man, he's a man not a damn monster. but then....define monster, was he not in some ways a nightmare to her? she snorts softly to herself, lifting eyes to the thick canopy above- desperately seeking a break in which she could see the stars. needing it more than she'd ever felt a need for food or water. she's only met with the suffocating darkness of leaves waving tauntingly down at her.
she winces; gaze dropping heavily to meet his. what was he thinking? probably pissed off that the ethereal woman that got him so excited with her detached, spiritual presence that held her so above everyone else turned out to be as fucked up and human as anyone else. she snorts again, ears pinning against her head as the wispy tail lying abandoned on the earth gives a restless flick. inky orbs rest carelessly on his own, as icy and sharp as ever but struggling to stir anything in the hollow look he receives. was he studying her? could she blame him? she was probably some kind of project to him, this was probably quite interesting to observe. she raises her eyes once more before looking back. in reality she was actually trying to avoid looking too closely, nervous to find disgust lingering in that cold look even if she claimed not to care. yet her self control is slipping like water through trembling fingers as the dam within continues to slowly crumble and wave after wave she's hit. each with an agonizing force stronger than the last and with it comes a dull realization that should this continue as it means to, she'll surely drown. she swallows hastily, it brings with it a fear she's never experienced. no threat of war or death could be as frightening to the ghost as the collapse of her own mind. please. it's all she utters back to the rushing.
so she looks at him now, really sees him. her brows crease. it's so slight, anyone else would never notice her but despite their encounters only being few the two knew how the other worked. he was....struggling. her heart shudders uncomfortably as she watches with an open curiosity, big eyes engrossed in the scene before her. it seems he finally pins down what stray thing had broken free from his mind as that familiar veil falls back down again and he hardens. she doesn't even bother trying to follow suit, simply blinking slowly.
"No."
she doesn't flinch, wretched gaze not wavering in the slightest as she continues to watch wordlessly.
you're lying
yet her mouth refuses to say it, tongue feeling heavy in her jaws and she fears should she force it to attempt her speech will simply come out slurred.
so she forces weary muscles to push her body from the cold earth and stand. and walk. and then she's before him, head craned back to look up at his face before she pushes forward in some sort of aggressive embrace. she doesn't seek comfort in the action nor is she simply testing him; the action falls in some dark place inbetween as she inhales him. unlike the first time she'd been this close to him she does not push forward to bite at him or anything of the sort; she simply remains pressed against him- listening curiously to the thud of his heart against her face.
perhaps she did it to stir something within her, perhaps...perhaps rather than testing him she was attempting to test herself. see if this stirred anything within her and if maybe it could take over what else raged on, using him selfishly like a drug. she breathes slowly, still curious too as to what this would do to him. the whole unknown factor still granting a little buzz to sluggish blood.
might as well see if rotten can cancel out rotten.
she winces; gaze dropping heavily to meet his. what was he thinking? probably pissed off that the ethereal woman that got him so excited with her detached, spiritual presence that held her so above everyone else turned out to be as fucked up and human as anyone else. she snorts again, ears pinning against her head as the wispy tail lying abandoned on the earth gives a restless flick. inky orbs rest carelessly on his own, as icy and sharp as ever but struggling to stir anything in the hollow look he receives. was he studying her? could she blame him? she was probably some kind of project to him, this was probably quite interesting to observe. she raises her eyes once more before looking back. in reality she was actually trying to avoid looking too closely, nervous to find disgust lingering in that cold look even if she claimed not to care. yet her self control is slipping like water through trembling fingers as the dam within continues to slowly crumble and wave after wave she's hit. each with an agonizing force stronger than the last and with it comes a dull realization that should this continue as it means to, she'll surely drown. she swallows hastily, it brings with it a fear she's never experienced. no threat of war or death could be as frightening to the ghost as the collapse of her own mind. please. it's all she utters back to the rushing.
so she looks at him now, really sees him. her brows crease. it's so slight, anyone else would never notice her but despite their encounters only being few the two knew how the other worked. he was....struggling. her heart shudders uncomfortably as she watches with an open curiosity, big eyes engrossed in the scene before her. it seems he finally pins down what stray thing had broken free from his mind as that familiar veil falls back down again and he hardens. she doesn't even bother trying to follow suit, simply blinking slowly.
"No."
she doesn't flinch, wretched gaze not wavering in the slightest as she continues to watch wordlessly.
you're lying
yet her mouth refuses to say it, tongue feeling heavy in her jaws and she fears should she force it to attempt her speech will simply come out slurred.
so she forces weary muscles to push her body from the cold earth and stand. and walk. and then she's before him, head craned back to look up at his face before she pushes forward in some sort of aggressive embrace. she doesn't seek comfort in the action nor is she simply testing him; the action falls in some dark place inbetween as she inhales him. unlike the first time she'd been this close to him she does not push forward to bite at him or anything of the sort; she simply remains pressed against him- listening curiously to the thud of his heart against her face.
perhaps she did it to stir something within her, perhaps...perhaps rather than testing him she was attempting to test herself. see if this stirred anything within her and if maybe it could take over what else raged on, using him selfishly like a drug. she breathes slowly, still curious too as to what this would do to him. the whole unknown factor still granting a little buzz to sluggish blood.
might as well see if rotten can cancel out rotten.
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