Hideaway Strath Up north’s getting cold soon

He knows she’s looking at him. He can feel her fiery eyes burning searing hot holes in his pelt. He loves it. Wants her gaze to set him aflame — never to burn out. He wants to be the center of her world and nothing but. He’s realizing this now. Especially now. She’s so strong and so promising. Yet, as of right now, so troubling, their relationship strained. He knows it will continue to strain as well. Only for now, perhaps in the future as well, but he has a feeling he could corrupt her beautifully. Soon enough, it wouldn’t be him holding the reins — it would be her. Ruling him with an iron fist that he will want so badly to obey. Hell, she could say Jump. and Kynareth Deagon of the Abbey, Grandmaster of the Saints, a vicious killer and murderer would say How High? with swift ease. She’d understand soon. He comforts himself confidently.

Yet, he continues onward towards the borders. He listens intently to her words, nodding his head slowly to let her know that he heard her. “I want that too.” He starts. “Simmik, I will try to be better, but I how I am is highly dependent on how you act as well.” His voice is soft, not wanting to fight, informative. “If you force me to be a monster, then I will be.” He says the words as a warning almost, even though his voice seems to be uttering it silkily. 

Onto the next question. Another of many he’s sure she will continue to ask. Why do you want to do better now? She asks. He shakes his head in what could be seen as disappointment. “I fucked up. I wanted you so bad.” He stops walking, still not looking at her. “I was blinded by rage when you turned me away for what I did, even though I understand why you did it now.” He turns to look at her now, a moment of dramatic bated breath. “I can only try and fix it, but I will not change. And I’m sorry for that.” He says somberly, soft gold usually filled with teasing hatred and chaos warm and filled with want.