07-08-2020, 12:07 PM
i will be brutal
He thinks he hates his scars not because of the story they tell, but perhaps because of the stories they don’t. Dying and fighting never meant much to him. Not when the oldest wounds remained weeping inside, infected and festering with a sickness he could not heal. All the loneliness and anger settled like a cancer in his heart. Once upon a time, he thought himself salvageable, perhaps even in recovery. But whatever curse haunts his bones always picks the perfect time to rear its head and remind him. Larva learns his lesson time and again.
Finally, he turns his head to look at her when she speaks. Already forgetting his most recent lesson, his eyes trace her figure as he considers all the ways he could break her down. Larva enjoys the pristine white of her body and the gentle curve of her back leading into her hips. But then she’s talking again, so his filthy thoughts go skittering into the quiet corners of his mind once more. She says she doesn’t want to be alone and he narrows his eyes at the words. Why is she alone in the first place? If she running from someone else – or is someone running from her?
He steps forward, little scales emerging from the corners of his jaw and down his spine. Larva blinks, and in a moment his eyes are serpentine as he prefers them to be. Is being alone more appealing to her now?
“I’m always alone in some way. Your being here doesn’t change that,” he explains in a murmur as he takes another step toward her until he’s close enough to sink his teeth into her or kiss her lips – whichever delighted him more. But he settles on neither as he studies the shape of her eyes. She’s got the same sad stare as Anemone had and he wants to rip it from her face.
“What’s your name?”
Finally, he turns his head to look at her when she speaks. Already forgetting his most recent lesson, his eyes trace her figure as he considers all the ways he could break her down. Larva enjoys the pristine white of her body and the gentle curve of her back leading into her hips. But then she’s talking again, so his filthy thoughts go skittering into the quiet corners of his mind once more. She says she doesn’t want to be alone and he narrows his eyes at the words. Why is she alone in the first place? If she running from someone else – or is someone running from her?
He steps forward, little scales emerging from the corners of his jaw and down his spine. Larva blinks, and in a moment his eyes are serpentine as he prefers them to be. Is being alone more appealing to her now?
“I’m always alone in some way. Your being here doesn’t change that,” he explains in a murmur as he takes another step toward her until he’s close enough to sink his teeth into her or kiss her lips – whichever delighted him more. But he settles on neither as he studies the shape of her eyes. She’s got the same sad stare as Anemone had and he wants to rip it from her face.
“What’s your name?”