12-21-2018, 03:48 AM
He is impossibly calm, but in a way that is unsettling. Like the surface of dark water that is too flat, or a forest that does not rustle with the sounds of birds in its treetops; the longer that he watches her in silence, the tighter that foreboding fist begins to clench. She is crushed beneath the apprehension, the uncertainty of what was to come, and she knows he can feel the way it hums off her skin like electricity. His collected quietness has sent her heart hammering against her ribs again, wishing that he would just do whatever it is he is going to do. She wonders if this is his plan, part of his torture, to spiral her into fear and madness before he pulls her apart.
Like a cat plays with its prey, and she can do nothing but stand there, half-paralyzed in her fear, and slowly allowing the realization to dawn over her that she had missed her opportunity to escape long ago.
He circles close, so close, so that she can feel the heat that rises from his skin even though they are not touching. Her skin shivers, her nearly smoldering eyes following him as he narrows his path around her, something between fear and fury hardening the lines of her usually soft face. But the task that has been laid before her is impossible. She is small in comparison to him, lithe and refined even for a mustang, and to physically fight him would be disastrous on her part. At this point, she thinks running would only spark a chase.
But for all her anger and terror, there is a part of her that wonders, if she can just be compliant, if she can grit her teeth through her fear, perhaps she can just let it be over — whatever it may be.
The feel of his teeth against the svelte curve of her hip triggers her to shy to the side once more, her small ears still lost in the tangled mess of her mane. The anger is slowly giving way to simply fear once more, and something similar to a defeated acceptance has subdued what once burned in her umber eyes. Everywhere she moved, he followed her faster, his larger frame looming against hers, his teeth always quick to catch her skin or mane. He was like a shadow, hovering so close until he suffocated her, until he finally has forced her into submission.
Except, shadows had always been kind to her. They reminded her of quiet, of solitude, and of Ether — glowing eyes in the dark, cool skin against her hot flesh, and she finds herself wishing that when she steals a glance into the dark, that his shadows could simply appear and swallow her whole. He could take her far away from here, from him, if he only knew where she was.
Even in the lack of light her neck shimmered with perspiration, her mane clinging to the nape of it, and when she rests her eyes on his, her voice is hushed but taut when she says, ”I made the wrong choice, then.” There is still an edge of defiance, flickering just faintly in her eyes, evident in the rise and fall of her voice, and etched in the way her muscles are rigid beneath her coat. He had her firmly within his grasp, now, and all she could do was wait to be cast aside.
@[Tunnel]
Like a cat plays with its prey, and she can do nothing but stand there, half-paralyzed in her fear, and slowly allowing the realization to dawn over her that she had missed her opportunity to escape long ago.
He circles close, so close, so that she can feel the heat that rises from his skin even though they are not touching. Her skin shivers, her nearly smoldering eyes following him as he narrows his path around her, something between fear and fury hardening the lines of her usually soft face. But the task that has been laid before her is impossible. She is small in comparison to him, lithe and refined even for a mustang, and to physically fight him would be disastrous on her part. At this point, she thinks running would only spark a chase.
But for all her anger and terror, there is a part of her that wonders, if she can just be compliant, if she can grit her teeth through her fear, perhaps she can just let it be over — whatever it may be.
The feel of his teeth against the svelte curve of her hip triggers her to shy to the side once more, her small ears still lost in the tangled mess of her mane. The anger is slowly giving way to simply fear once more, and something similar to a defeated acceptance has subdued what once burned in her umber eyes. Everywhere she moved, he followed her faster, his larger frame looming against hers, his teeth always quick to catch her skin or mane. He was like a shadow, hovering so close until he suffocated her, until he finally has forced her into submission.
Except, shadows had always been kind to her. They reminded her of quiet, of solitude, and of Ether — glowing eyes in the dark, cool skin against her hot flesh, and she finds herself wishing that when she steals a glance into the dark, that his shadows could simply appear and swallow her whole. He could take her far away from here, from him, if he only knew where she was.
Even in the lack of light her neck shimmered with perspiration, her mane clinging to the nape of it, and when she rests her eyes on his, her voice is hushed but taut when she says, ”I made the wrong choice, then.” There is still an edge of defiance, flickering just faintly in her eyes, evident in the rise and fall of her voice, and etched in the way her muscles are rigid beneath her coat. He had her firmly within his grasp, now, and all she could do was wait to be cast aside.
briseis.
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
@[Tunnel]