05-11-2020, 11:23 PM
“I know when you go
down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way
to the graveyard.”
down all your darkest roads
I would have followed all the way
to the graveyard.”
He is such a beautiful mystery that she cannot help but to want to solve him. He is different than most in the sense that he doesn’t seem to want her at all. Even when he turns to face her, even though his face is shrouded in shadow and tangled forelock, she knows that the look in his is different.
She is used to having to fight the urge to shrink away from their stares; when Carnage’s flip from their almost neutral wine-red to something infinitely darker, or when the yellow of Atrox’s sharpen until they might cut her open with a glance. She is used to the way they can make her blood run cold only to bring it back to a wanting simmer again, and it’s become something she seeks out in most everyone.
With Illum there was something almost unreadable, but she is not afraid yet.
He doesn’t seem to want to kill her, but he doesn’t seem to want to touch her either.
She doesn’t know why she takes it as a dare to see which she can incite from him first.
Their eyes find each other through the dark, and she thinks that maybe, just for a moment, there is something there. That the flickering jump of her heart did not happen out of nowhere and for no reason, and perhaps he might see the curious spark that lights up her eyes when he moves closer. He calls her an angel, though, and that is what reflexively makes her nearly close up. Her nose curves towards her chest until the long tendrils of her forelock hide her dark eyes and the heat that she feels rise to her cheeks, and to an outsider it could be misinterpreted as a shyness at the veiled compliment. “I’m not an angel,” is her soft reply, and the words are confusing when paired with the amber glow of her halo and the way her gold-tipped wings shift when she moves.
She feels the shadows at her throat again, and she forgets for a moment what an imposter she feels like when she lifts her eyes to his. She does not move when they curl at her throat, though she does notice how his shadows seem immune to her ethereal light – that they swallow it whole, suffocating the angelic glow in the places they touch, and this brings a smile to the edge of her lips when she murmurs in a way so quiet that it betrays the rapid uptick of her pulse, “Do you threaten to choke everyone, or is that your special greeting for me?”
She is used to having to fight the urge to shrink away from their stares; when Carnage’s flip from their almost neutral wine-red to something infinitely darker, or when the yellow of Atrox’s sharpen until they might cut her open with a glance. She is used to the way they can make her blood run cold only to bring it back to a wanting simmer again, and it’s become something she seeks out in most everyone.
With Illum there was something almost unreadable, but she is not afraid yet.
He doesn’t seem to want to kill her, but he doesn’t seem to want to touch her either.
She doesn’t know why she takes it as a dare to see which she can incite from him first.
Their eyes find each other through the dark, and she thinks that maybe, just for a moment, there is something there. That the flickering jump of her heart did not happen out of nowhere and for no reason, and perhaps he might see the curious spark that lights up her eyes when he moves closer. He calls her an angel, though, and that is what reflexively makes her nearly close up. Her nose curves towards her chest until the long tendrils of her forelock hide her dark eyes and the heat that she feels rise to her cheeks, and to an outsider it could be misinterpreted as a shyness at the veiled compliment. “I’m not an angel,” is her soft reply, and the words are confusing when paired with the amber glow of her halo and the way her gold-tipped wings shift when she moves.
She feels the shadows at her throat again, and she forgets for a moment what an imposter she feels like when she lifts her eyes to his. She does not move when they curl at her throat, though she does notice how his shadows seem immune to her ethereal light – that they swallow it whole, suffocating the angelic glow in the places they touch, and this brings a smile to the edge of her lips when she murmurs in a way so quiet that it betrays the rapid uptick of her pulse, “Do you threaten to choke everyone, or is that your special greeting for me?”
ryatah