Horizon Ridge there's something here that's broken

declan is so fickle, LOL.

[table width=85%][tr][td]

There is nothing and no one that could ever dull the intensity of Conan to Declan. Conan was the sun that Declan got sucked into the gravity of: a shadowed planet helpless as he revolves around, skimming so close that he swears a lick of flames will be enough to set him ablaze. He has not gotten burned yet and his feelings continued to linger, like a demon whose claws refuse to relent upon him. It is warped. It is forbidden. It is saccharine and highly coveted but it is his. For better or for worse, it is his. A low rumble resounds in the feral Commander’s chest as he follows in his brother’s example and draws near to the woman. She is small. She appears fragile to him, as if he touches her she might shatter. It intrigues him. As does the mystery she presents to him for he has given up attempting to puzzle out and it seems that she will give him and Conan no solid answers. He desires to know why she is so submissive even if it caters to the rigid hierarchy he is eager to set and live by. Conan’s place within it is …fickle. It changes. Often. Some days his brother stands at his side. An equal. Sometimes Declan seeks to extort his dominance over his brother. It depends. Usually upon Declan’s mood; but then again their relationship is never a clear thing to the feral Commander as his brother ghosts between the blurred line of brother and lover. Declan does not know if his twisted love goes reciprocated or not but it has not yet come to matter. It is not yet an answer he seeks.

She could be his, too. She could become an obsession just like Conan. Never to the same degree for none could ever compare but Declan could easily lose himself in trying to unravel her mystery if he was willing to put forth the effort. He draws closer to her still, drawing in her scent with a low sound that tapers into something of a purl. She could be a distraction from the truth. Keep everyone occupied so that they do not look too closely at how he stares and wants his brother. I have use of you, he thinks as he eyes her with a twitch of his lips as he turns and presses his side — hard with muscle against her supple and soft femme build. He hopes he digs and burrows beneath her skin. He wants to. He draws a contemplative noise in his throat as he squints at what is left of the carcass: the only indication that the gears of his mind are rapidly turning. Perhaps he will not gift her to Ceannasach after all.

[/td][/tr][/table]