that day even the sun was afraid of you and the weight you carried
His smile goes quicksilver when he sees the surprise in her eyes. When he sees the barest hint of her lifting a leg only to plant it, when he can see the way that she has to fight the slightest tremor in her voice. It gives him the feeling of having an edge again and he thinks if he cannot manage to protect himself with apathy then he will protect himself with this. He will push whatever advantage he may have on her.
“Game?” he echoes, that husky note not leaving his voice, his eyes slanted as his gaze drops to her mouth and then rises slowly to her own orange eyes. He lets all of the anger, the confusion, the frustration, the fear that is his life implode in his chest and turn to heat—channelling all of it in this new endeavor.
If she could easily tear out his throat for the impertinence, then it only adds something exciting.
Another step to her, his jaguar body as feline as the markings that spot it. “Maybe you didn’t seek me out intentionally,” he growls, low and slow, wondering if he hates her for pushing his buttons. Wondering if she felt as rattled by him now as he had felt just moments before. “Funny how that works.”
They are so close that he can hear her breathing, can feel the heat of her.
The strength of her is harder to miss this close. The natural athleticism. The way that she has clearly seen battle far more than he. Were it not for his sharpened teeth, his inherit strength, his acute senses, he is sure that she would not even need to shift to overpower him. But he is no pushover like this. Not when the sun hangs high above them and the shadows cross over them. Not when the muffled sound of the crowds are so far away and it is just the two of them. “I think you would have come,” he whispers this, lower.
He flicks his eyes up, catches her gaze again.
“I think you can’t bear to turn away from a challenge.”
so you saluted every ghost you've ever prayed to and then buried it where bones are buried
