[private] look what you've done, draco

[draco]

draco

hitch a ride on my violence

I have no desire to mock Death, Gospel replies, and Draco cocks his head in what might be confusion. How can one whose whole existence lives in death not long to mock death? He closes his eyes slowly, then opens them back up in the hopes that his doubt has dissipated—it hasn’t; but when he digs into her mind to see if this is some game he does not understand, he finds Gospel means what she says.

And that is almost more confusing than if she were toying with him.

“Do I fear death?” Draco parrots, almost haughtily. His laugh follows, a sound that rings clear and true between them. “If I feared death, do you think I’d welcome your fangs so easily? No, Gospel,” he pauses, dips his head down to nip at the skin between her nostrils, “I refuse to fear the unknown . . . and I can’t even begin to fathom the places you might take me.” Draco drinks in the gleam of Gospel’s scales before he asks, “Tell me what you want, Gospel. Tell me. So I can give it to you.”

@[gospel]