The Sentinels legs and hands, thumbs together

She was his queen, his empress, his consort. He was a newly claimed King, but she always held the highest position. They were a growing bonfire, that was once only a lit match, growing brighter, burning stronger - waiting to blaze the entire world. Two dark flames licking agaisnt the ends of the earth, taking it all for themselves. They were selfish, but they didn't care; the world was created for them afterall. Two egocentric sleuths, filled with a hunger for passion and desire that never ceased. And they would chase after their dreams no matter who it affected, just as he had pursued Indie leaving Merry-Andrew's behind, ready to abandon them at any moment for his flame.

He wasn't a natural born leader, no one was. Never from a pup could it be fate that caused them to be a future chief. It took time and work - so much toil. Donovan was extremely intelligent, but he was blind to notice the methods of his fathers teachings were harsh and unnecessary, but he was manipulated to believe it helped, and perhaps it did. He could've easily treated his student the same way, constant yelling, random shifts in mood, and occasionally blood covered fur. The trainee was treated with the upmost delicacy, of course with his anger issues there would be the occasional burst, but it was never too far out of line. He wanted her to be perfect, at first to impress the gang, specifically the Boss, but overtime his rationale had switched to something more personal. 


A wry smirk formed agaisnt his maw, a quick exhale of amusement escaped his nose, a cloud of frosty breath escaping in front of his muzzle. "You never did." This was entirely the crooks decision, it was a necessity to escape that home of nostalgia. No matter how badly he yearned for Indie, Donovan was a greedy man, who without the pain of the gang, likely wouldn't have chased after her - for reputation's sake. That was all thrown out the window once he realized how badly the loss of his father and his forbidden fruit had injured him, along with Merry-Andrew's he had to leave. The gangster lifted his head to smell the ash drifing through the air, the opposite of snow. Before laying his chin agaisnt her head. "I need this, Ind." A soft whisper lingered toward her ear, the same silk voiced that didn't match the man speaking it - the one who only she had heard, and only she would ever hear. The one used during the most intimate of moments, laying beneath a heavily starred sky, swapping stories, sharing hearts.

Her touch created a tingle every place it lightly ran itself against him. "Let us create what Merry-Andrew's never could."