Shadewood Drunk Nights are more fun than Sober Ones

Her fire. 
It reeled licking flames over the tender ice of his heart, the heat of her passion going on to feed the fear to needlessly hide his own. The iceberg had finally fallen from this high mountain as the spring eyes cursed the height from which it once reigned silently. 
It fell, plummeting into the deep and unforgiving waters of meltwater, and he found his mask, one still bearing the wear marks from where he once put his face in, before. 
It still fit.
And it was perfect for this occasion, as the woman he stood to stare upon pushed the caring Phantom from the new roost he tried to make for his settling birds. 

No...this woman wanted him for who he was, for who he was meant to be. And he would show her the darkness she so craved, he would allow her a peek into the pressure that he had kept from his Family. The ex-assassin would give it to her until she either coveted his will, or fled from his law.

Ebony hide as ethereal as the Void’s most despairing of eclipses began a wave of bristle. His fur did not stand, but the night seemed to come much closer to his body as his mood had clearly shifted. But how?

Baritones turned soft, silken, as his murmur seemed to carry direct to her ear, to her mind, his patience so spent it had become thin fabric. 

“And if you are right? If I should think you dear enough to me that I simply can not, and will not let you go- what could you possibly do to stop me?” He took a step to her, his shadow bleeding across the ground where he closed the gap between them. Almost intimately close.

His voice lowered as he stood barest nare to nare with the bold woman whom was just meek only minutes before. 
Discipline. It was a harsh thing instilled in him, beaten into his mind with that barbaric hand of his uncle. Everyone needed discipline- but who was he but a messenger? 
He was no
messanger. 

He was the Watcher of this Keep. 
The Heir of the Nightmare legacy. 
And be damned those who stood against his will.

”You stand by you beliefs, Yunoks Arilera,” the voice lifted so unbelievably soft from his tarred lips. “But you also stand in my land.” It was clear he wanted Kukutux, that mere desire for her being the only thread holding this weight from collapsing the cage of whatever evil thing lurked within it, within him. It paced just behind his silent and brooding walls, hunger commanding it to smash against its unforgiving cell, howls of damnation and vengeance echoing behind his carefully gilded eyes.

”I can only do so much.”

                                                                        

before this demon inhales me, too.