Wapun Meadow bébé ils ne veulent pas de toi

he was intoxicated by the misting droplets of her fear, placated by the tension in her elegant lines and the swallow that bobbed her slim throat. velveteen lilt to her voice. peachy. "this is my territory," merrick purred in a gilded tonality. he made no secret of his gaze roving over her. she was no nightshade, but the bears would sup her blood just as happily.
"i'm its god." the words sprang to his tongue, he spoke them, a vessel for the inhabiting spirit.
i could be yours, too
he was silent then, keeping back from invasion of her space, but lingering near, for as far as merrick was concerned, the songbird was trespassing.