06-19-2015, 09:19 PM
If this is to end in fire then we should all burn together
Well. His new life was off to a rather interesting start. Drow hadn’t even stepped out of the willow’s embrace when a stranger narrowly avoided colliding with him. Oh hell, an oddly, awkwardly adorable stranger too. There was something endearing about the almost mismatched way he was put together, like the different pieces of him didn’t quite fit. He had Arzhur’s painted pattern on Dröm’s black base, and the combination was a kick square in the nostalgia. Or something equally off-balancing. Old scars spread across his patchwork skin, and fuck if Drow couldn’t relate to scars. And those carefully averted eyes were so damn blue, soft as the summer sky but shadowed with…well, he wasn’t a damn psychic. Whatever, there were shadows lurking there, and Drow knew that feeling too.
This one’s trouble. He was pretty sure that quiet little warning was his heart. Which, really, had just finally gotten over Zurry and didn’t need to be broken again, thanks. Not even by sky blue eyes and patchwork skin and fuck, he was pretty sure that itty bitty ache in his chest was a bad sign. Steeling himself against those elusive eyes, he spoke, trying really damn hard to keep the purr out of his gravelly voice. “Hey, it’s okay. No big deal. I can handle a little rough treatment.” Oh shit. Wait. The purr slipped into that last sentence, and he really hadn’t meant it to. Well, mostly.
“Distracted, huh? What’s on your mind?” And maybe don’t ask what’s on mine… Brushing his lips along those scars, for starters. Oops, wait, no. Nope, no touching his skin, no pressing against him, no raking teeth along his spine. Probably even thinking about tracing the lines of his pattern, touching everywhere the black and white patches met, all of that was probably a bad idea. Doesn’t feel like a bad idea. Which probably meant it was an even worse idea than he already thought. He cleared his throat, and tried to convince himself he could clear away those delicious little images just as easily. Even if it was a blatant lie. “My name’s Drow, by the way.”
This one’s trouble. He was pretty sure that quiet little warning was his heart. Which, really, had just finally gotten over Zurry and didn’t need to be broken again, thanks. Not even by sky blue eyes and patchwork skin and fuck, he was pretty sure that itty bitty ache in his chest was a bad sign. Steeling himself against those elusive eyes, he spoke, trying really damn hard to keep the purr out of his gravelly voice. “Hey, it’s okay. No big deal. I can handle a little rough treatment.” Oh shit. Wait. The purr slipped into that last sentence, and he really hadn’t meant it to. Well, mostly.
“Distracted, huh? What’s on your mind?” And maybe don’t ask what’s on mine… Brushing his lips along those scars, for starters. Oops, wait, no. Nope, no touching his skin, no pressing against him, no raking teeth along his spine. Probably even thinking about tracing the lines of his pattern, touching everywhere the black and white patches met, all of that was probably a bad idea. Doesn’t feel like a bad idea. Which probably meant it was an even worse idea than he already thought. He cleared his throat, and tried to convince himself he could clear away those delicious little images just as easily. Even if it was a blatant lie. “My name’s Drow, by the way.”
Watch the flames climb high into the night
Drow