08-28-2017, 12:28 PM
I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
If only they had known…Fate though, was a bitch lusting after the thing hanging between any regular cur’s legs and never getting it. So Fate meddles. Brings them together in soft dappled sunlight in the same place their parents met in long ago, unbeknownst to either of them. Femur - not Fate - can still feel the ghost of his lips on her skin and how he saw her, really saw her. She was afraid but it was a delicious feeling considering that she had grown up in the shadow of the creep-twins and under the crass eye of the once Pangean King. With a bloodline like that, fear had been bred out of her but he elicited something from her, that smallest bit of fright that tickled her spine and made her fanged smile wider.
Just as she is afraid, she is enlightened too - they know a secret about each other, this secret of hidden and forgottenness that each of them exists in. Secrets like that can make them friends out of each other but she is smart enough to not expect much in the way of friendship from him as he tells her that he is cursed. The bitterness in his tone brings her ears forward in concern, and the fanged mouth frowns a bit - where is this odd concern coming from? Why should she care if he is cursed and bitter about it? But Femur does, for some obscure reason that dangles just out of reach of her slow equine brain. More of her goes visible as if pulled forward by his bitterness that seems to be more apparent in his stance and the features of his face than just in his voice alone.
“How are you cursed?”
Fate meddles more by making Femur ask him such a thing.
For every question asked, there is another to goes asked but remains unanswered despite the push in his tone that demands a response from her. She flirts with the idea of leaving him with just that sly fanged grin but opts for a different retort, “I like little ghost-girl better.” Parts of her go invisible again as he creeps closer and reaches out with his lips for more touch - no, he tastes her, she realizes that, has always realized it - he tastes like a snake tastes the air with it’s tongue except his lips are wolfish in their exploration and hunger. The breath and thought have gone out of her until he asks if she is nobody like him which she knows to be untrue. “Well flame-eyes, I doubt you are as much of a nobody as I am.” But she knows, thinks back to that secret understanding that they share - they are nothing and no one, but here now, they are something and someone to each other.
His eyes are evergreen, like the trees.
She did not realize this until he fixed her with his stare just as she was about to give him her name. In the space of a heartbeat and his look, the breath is gone from her again as visceral as a kick to the gut. Her fanged mouth forms a little moue, an ‘oh’ that goes unvoiced but flutters around in her throat like a trapped moth. That same flutter might be fear, or not. It could be anticipation and triumph at his painful admittance through which all manner of truth burns clear - he wants to kill her, could kill her, may kill her yet. But his evergreen eyes say something else that brings her wholly to a visible state and with an emboldened step to his side, she proffers the slightest chance at her slender throat as if baring it to him as a gift.
Yes, he could kill her.
Yes, he wants to kill her.
But something in his eyes says otherwise, speaks of possession and Femur responds to that above all else. Damn her mother’s blood! Femur
dude i have been dying to respond to this! she doesn't really want to die of course because i love her but damn damn damn! so much fun writing this reply! <333