I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin
(and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)
Perhaps her eyes linger a little too long on his face, perhaps he’s just acutely aware of the sharp handsomeness that he possesses, a dangerous kind of beauty that sits below the surface like a knife. It’s not his favorite weapon to wield, but he’s done it before, and he isn’t afraid to prey upon the hearts of those who are stupid enough to offer it up to him. It’s just a different kind of art, that’s all, and if he’s anything, it’s a connoisseur. Sometimes, he likes to break them with primal fear. He likes to watch them run. Likes to watch them break in front of him, shattering before the enormity of their own fear.
Other times, he likes the more insidious fear, the one that slowly creeps in their bones.
He likes the way it requires more than just his gift.
It requires grit and cunning and he loves the way he has to work for that final masterpiece.
It made it all the sweeter for the reward.
“My forest,” he repeats with a shrug of his elegant shoulder, one corner of his sooty mouth lifting into a casual smile. He takes another step toward her, purposefully closing the distance between them. He doesn’t pull on the threads of the Fear just yet, although his hands rest on them as always.
He takes another step, his smile just a little wicked, and his face all the more handsome because of it.
“Maybe my name is write upon it,” he breathes, his voice just a little husky.
She is perhaps beautiful, but he doesn’t appreciate the curve of her hip or the unique spots that crawl up and around her barrel. He appreciates the way he can see what she will look like. The way her face would look when it is contorted with terror. The way her limbs would look all contorted and wrong.
He nearly shivers with pleasure from the mere idea.
“Would you like to find out?”
@[glim] <333