From my breast the cold heart taking,
Give it to Belerma's care
Inside of me, there’s a thrill of sudden elation when he rolls his wings in discomfort. I shift, sidestep lazily away from the nudge, and press my bloodied lips tight together so that a smile won’t break out across my face. I must be in control of that - my body; it has to begin with the eyes so that they won’t see you, the real you. Mine dart away. Maybe he’ll think me in pain. “All the better.”
I cannot see the way his dark lips have cut sharp creases into the corners of his mouth, nor can I discern the shadow that passes like a foreboding cloud over his features. I can only hear the harsh grate of his lungs as they conjure thick phlegm for spittle, the sharp tuh of his projectile when he curls his tongue to wordlessly relay distaste.
I have stroked the fur of a demon, and this is my only rebuttal?
The smile twists my lips against my will. I’m brought crashing to my senses at the soft grip of his teeth, it’s so easy to fling a wayward hind leg in response - as if this is all I’ve ever been: a playful child. “Gunsynd? Not what I expected, honestly.” I chirp, happy to see if this revelation will amuse him. “Better than, actually.”
Now my gaze flies readily to him; a matching pair of eyes like a growing storm, filled with curiosity. He had said something, something that had stuck even as he’d taken liberty to press wizened words into the shape of my skin, distracting at best. “How do you see fit to use them?” I press, “Your abilities, I mean." I add in sudden explanation. The hint of a vestal smile softens my mouth, I tilt my chin towards him with the guise of fascination.
There’s nothing harmful in my question. I’m just a child, after all. “Just a child.” I remind myself. “Is there anything you can’t do? I laugh.
Rey
@[Gunsynd]