[private] Ding dong

[Bardot]

Bardot

I know what sin is

What they must look like, the bright figure crossing over the frosted plains with rolling shadows coming up behind her. Her pace never slows for him as dark strands of flower-jeweled hair whip wildly across her face in the chill winter wind. She’s not running away from him, she just needs a moment to collect her thoughts, and so she continues to stalk through the frozen landscape with no destination entirely in mind. She hadn’t been prepared to be his today. Not when that nasty aftertaste lingered from their last rendezvous. The first time he had left her. The second time he had gone too far with the brutal wounds he had left on her. Of course she had removed (most) of them. It wasn’t his violence that had upset her, it was what those markings had stood for. Just as she hadn’t been ashamed by the hedonistic act in the river (before he had crossed the line), she isn’t ashamed of her pride in her looks. Everyone in her family had held some streak of vainity as well as that tendency to brood when emotions became overwhelming. It's what makes what had happened that much worse. Mar her beauty, mar her worth. When it came to Tunnel and those times when they might find each other, she had promised to be his and he would be hers. In those moments alone. It had never occurred to her that he might want her for longer, might want more than that. And what would she want if he did? Her lean legs carry her curved buttery figure well into the heart of the territory before the shadows finally fall into place beside her. Her golden eyes are sharp and guarded, not flicking to him or acknowledging his presence. He speaks and she cannot help the way the ravaged skin across her withers shudders with the caress of memories that nickname brings. She doesn’t doubt he has caught it and still she refuses to look at him. He tries again, she realizes he is baiting her, and finally halts with an exasperated sigh when he places the bulk of him directly in her path. “You’re right.” She states flatly. “I don’t need help.” She reminds him as the tip of her horn grazes his cheek just hard enough to prick his skin if he should lean into the touch. “I’m not searching for anyone. You can stay, you can go, I could really care less. But you can do so, alone.” His stormy gaze finally collides with her golden glare and she can’t help the breath that catches in her throat, looking down and seeing all those scars she had left in the wake of her anger. For a moment she hesitates, extending her soft muzzle to run her lips across one that runs jagged over the taunt bruised skin of his shoulder. At the last second, she pulls back and thinks better of it. This was the problem. This was exactly the problem. He hadn’t broken her in the river despite his best intentions to do so. But he could.  She can see it now, past the flint of his steely gaze. Past all that darkness, all those shadows. He still thinks himself a monster but she disagrees. He's not the creature he thinks he is, something she had wondered at the start and confirmed when she had flown at him in her passionate rage. If she allowed him more than a day, more than those random moments when they came across each other, he would find something she’s not sure she is ready to give yet. She doesn't think Tunnel is the type to place a kiss of affection to her forehead like missing Yan had once done with his mate. She's not sure she wants that kind of relationship (she's not sure she deserves it) but she can't help but wonder what it might feel like. She doubts she will ever find out with him. She's surprised by how badly she wants him to. For a moment she is quiet and then she asks him cautiously, “If you didn’t find me beautiful... then why did you approach me?”

They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;

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@Tunnel that dry-cleaning bill getting longer