stillwater;

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails ”Tell me the fuck why,” the words shoot back at him, cutting into him like knives. Quickened heartbeats punctuate her demand as her fervent eyes singe him. She inches closer, not realizing how grave of a mistake this could be, and she takes another deep breath. The compassion has fled from her expression, now replaced by an outward irritation as he grounds himself and snarls through clenched teeth. ”Why the hell do you chase me away,” that statement leaks her hatred for rejection and she clambers for a mask to protect herself, ”You cannot tell me what to do.” Nayl is seething. Her ears lace down and submerge into her unruly mane. Even despite how grim his face is and how low and threateningly he growls at her, still she remains unyielding. ”I’m not leaving,” the level of her voice lowers, but it doesn’t lose its edge or ferocity, ”not until you give me a fucking reason why.” She should be afraid of his response, but she is far too stubborn to turn her back to him and retreat back to Nerine. The crown is weighing heavily on her head and although she repeats to herself that she is still his Queen, the words never fall. There is a reluctance to chain him down with that simple statement for the fact that she doesn’t want to hear his denial, or hear him decide to stay here and far from her. It’s as though suddenly her grasp on him is slipping. Her power over him is squandering in this unsolicited rage and aggravation. She doesn’t want to lose him, but she won’t appear so desperate as to beg for him. There is no other option than to hold her head high and retract back into the confines of her shielded mind. He is chasing her away. He wants her gone, but she has already sunken knee-deep into the mud, planting herself in this predicament until it boils over and they can’t take anymore. It will be her decision to leave. What seemed like a distant thought is now coming to a head. A long breath opens her options for abandoning him, but then everything would change in that instant. Her walls would be built and her heart would find itself encased in an iron casket, far from anyone’s reach. She doesn’t want it to be like that, to be so hostile, but the consideration of it looms over her head like a thunder cloud while she stares into his slate eyes. Nayl covet and myrina's creation