[private] Offspring

[Offspring]

You're looking at an absolute zero;
I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.

  Solitude. He preferred it, more often than not - he preferred to settle into the stifling silence and burden of his thoughts, mending a heart frayed and tattered by time and its cruel fate. He had fleeting moments of sociability, but found that he festered best in isolation. It was not often he had a moment to himself, however - the weight of the crown of thorns he wore was difficult to ignore, though he was at times grateful for the distraction and reprieve it provided from his self-loathing.

   He is stirred from his heavy, darkening thoughts by the echo of a distantly familiar voice calling for him – he is loath to answer it, for the warmth of the bubbling magma oozing from the surface of the fertile soil is all the company that he is willing and able to withstand, but eventually, he wrenches himself away from the intense heat and into the heart of the volcanic isle. It is not long until his dark eyes settle upon the source - the fading sunlight is flush against the dappling of jaguar markings across a deep, russet canvas, and soon his own gaze is settled upon her as his thick, muscular legs carry him towards her.

  He cannot suppress the faint simper tugging at the corner of his mouth - she was a spitfire; he had seen that much during their brief introduction. She is no different, bathing beneath the warm, unyielding sunlight of midday while long tendrils of greenery lap lazily at her slender limbs - she cares not for the invisible border, and presses past it with unshakable confidence. He might have flinched, if it were any other (he had grown tired and irate with the number of violations as of recent - too many traipsed in with no respect, no forethought) - but there is a bubbling of contentment upon seeing her.

 He is intrigued - drawn to her like a delicate moth to the flame, though it is he, himself, that blisters with the fierce inferno fluttering within his chest, and she is far more delicate than he. Alas, with a faint sheen of sweat lingering on the surface of his marred skin, he emerges from the shadow of the eastern side of the island, loping towards her with a glint of curiosity in his eye. She may have chosen the far western corner of Nerine for her own, but she had found herself amid the thick ash and humidity after all, with his name on the darkness of her lips.

   He could only imagine what brought her to the island.

   "Tantalize," he muses softly, pausing before her while the darkness of his crimson gaze bores into her own. "I did not think that you would come, and so soon - bored of Nerine already?"

OFFSPRING

another zealot with the weight of the fucking world