I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin
She splinters and goes in every direction, falling apart and coming together with each breath.
He wonders at the wildness of a mind that would drive someone to such lengths, taking them to the edges of sanity and back again—whimpering with need one moment and then lashing out with fury the next. Part of him wants to turn from this, recognizing something messy when he sees it, but the other part is intrigued and thus he stays, choosing to let this interaction play out how it will in the coming moments.
“Of course I would,” he answers evenly, stepping away with alien grace when she strikes and coming up on her other side in another breath. “That’s what I said I would like to hear you try.” He leans forward and presses his lips and teeth to her neck, a threat but not an aggressive one—yet. He tastes the sweat on her, the feverish mania he imagines he can feel beneath the surface, and he breathes it in deep.
Curiously, he picks up the Fear once more, weaving it around them. Let it change her perception of the world around them. Let her grow drunk on it. Let it morph what she sees until this land bleeds away to be replaced with something else entirely. He wonders if she will see him crawl out of his own skin, his body falling away to be replaced with a more monstrous design. Will she see the ground rise up to swallow them both? Will she see his spine breaking and reforming so that he is born into something new?
He doesn’t know, but his laugh comes quietly, like smoke out of his mouth.
“It doesn’t matter if you beg or not now,” he whispers into her ear, tipping his head back and drinking the moment in, thinking of how Lucrezia looked painted on the ground. “Because it is coming regardless.”
(and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)
@[Rey]