I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
She doesn’t flinch from him as he had expected, and he is both intrigued and annoyed by it. Her soft-spoken gentleness engendered visions of a creature both meek and mild, easily frightened by bitter, callous brutes like him. But her acceptance of his harsh words without shrinking from him belie that image.
He might have found it intriguing if it did not remind him too much of someone he was trying so damned hard to forget.
Straightening slowly for where he’d been leaning against the tree, he eyes her warily. A part of him is tempted to demand she submit so she can show him exactly why she should fear him. Another part simply wants her gone so he can continue onward in blissful misery.
She is quick to offer platitudes, but it does nothing to soften his features. Her supposition that he had been crafted for war is correct. He had spent the better part of life fighting anyone he could. He had once even been proud of his prowess in battle, though that had been eons ago. Now it is only a way of life, something to ease the monotony of existence.
He might have been content to hold his silence if she had not continued to voice her musings aloud. Foolish musings. His wings shift when she mentions them, brow furrowing as his scowl deepens. As far as he is aware, they are perfectly ordinary wings. A dime a dozen in this gods-forsaken place. Where the hell had she been burying her head in the sand at?
When she asks if he is an angel of war however, every muscle in his body stiffens. His gaze falls flat, a chill invading his expression. He takes a step closer to her, wings lifting with his rising aggression. “I am no fucking angel,” he snarls, taking another step, looming with furious menace. She couldn’t have known how much the mention of angels would affect him, but it would not stop her from reaping the results. “And if you say another fucking word, I will show you just how much I am not.”
@Ethenia