— I'll break you a hundred different ways —
He is not often so easily enraptured, and he isn’t so certain that this bodes well for the blood-laced girl that stands in the waves before him. He has grown accustomed to his solitude, and there were few that he was willing to sacrifice it for, unless they happened to be the one intruding upon him and he is nearly forced into it. To approach another on his own volition was a rarity for him, but as his eyes sweep from the twisted curves of her antlers and across the ivory bone and crimson skin, and then back to the pale green of her eyes, he is locked in.
The hunger that twists in his gut is almost primal, but he does not allow it to show on the stoic plains of his face. The flatness of his eyes masks the calculations that are taking place inside the recesses of his mind, as he watches the waves wash away what blood they can reach. He wonders if this is why she stands here, if she thinks the salt of the ocean will rinse her clean enough that she can pretend the blood won’t keep coming.
He himself does not step into the water, and instead he remains at the edge of where the waterline reaches. The spray of the sea is enough to dampen the skin of his face, and it is a welcome comparison to the humid heat that the volcano behind him radiates. She is soft and quiet, nothing at all like the harsh angles of her exterior, and he can see the way her lips almost form a smile. He, even though he is nothing but smooth skin and sloping muscle, is still somehow sharper than her, with the firm lines of his face and the hardness that never seems to quite leave his eyes.
He doesn’t acknowledge what she says at first, or the acceptance of his faux apology. But when she asks if he lives here, he gives a slow shake of his head, offering in the same low baritone of his voice, “I don’t live anywhere.” He watches her silently for a moment longer, as the blood continues to pool along the edges of her bone and skin. Finally, he shifts backwards, retreating from the waters edge, but he angles his head back to her in a beckoning manner, “You’ll irritate your skin further standing in the water for too long.” That was the closest he would come to asking her to step onto the shore with him.
— and I'll make you remember my face —
