05-03-2017, 10:52 AM
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She was impossible. So stubbornly guarded he felt as if he was paddling in a lake with no bank in sight. Of course she wouldn’t answer him, not on his terms. It drove him internally wild, every damn memory he had of her was jumbled in a frustrating unknottable mess. If she’d been anyone else… if she hadn’t been King Rodrik’s… if he’d still had his fangs and that insatiable appetite, she would have made a damn good meal. But Lucrezia had always been more than nothing. So much more, that he caught the subtle shift in her face, that fleeting moment of stunned surprise that on anyone else would have gone unnoticed because he just did not care. Etojo cocked his head, and it was all too hard to stop the smarmy smirk curving the edge of his lips. “Yes, King Rodrik.” He corrected her quickly in much the same way he’d corrected himself. “Where is he? I’ve business with him.” It all sounded rather conceited. No. It sounded terrible. And the realisation was enough the smack that smirk from his face. “Err,” he floundered. He’d been angry, she’d fed that. He’d wanted to hurt her, yet he would never dare inflict upon her pain. He was confused, conflicted, frustrated. And yet through all of his self-tangledness, he knew he’d sought her for more than just a game… for more than just stubbornness and tension. She was his past. From a time when he’d been afraid of little and nothing. It had been so long before he had been near to anything familiar. Time out there, in the wilderness of the wild world and his own head, had blended into an endless crescendo of simply living. Deep down it had felt good to find her, even if she had interfered in what was to be a grand and pivotal moment of action. “Lucrezia…” he tried again. His eyes had lost their hardness, his face softer and daresay oddly endearing. Could she somehow see he wasn’t the enemy he’d often have her believe? And suddenly he’d had quite enough of the dark tension that enveloped them much like the distorted shadows of the night. “I didn’t find you for this.” He conceded. Whatever this game was, it was over. And Etojo regarded her rather solemnly, perhaps for the first time truly looking at her. His dark eyes searching her nutmeg ones, roaming to that crown of feathers he’d always thought were odd yet had grudgingly accepted – they matched those wings she’d once had… a dark thought he swiftly thumped back down. She was not the same, but neither was he. Rodrik could wait. After all, he reasoned that his devotion to King Rodrik had always naturally extended to his daughter. Usually, he wasn’t into touching, but she was so close and so warm and her scent so exotically pungent that he couldn’t help but reach for her. And he pressed his nostrils roughly against the blade of her shoulder and inhaled deep. “You don’t smell like pine needles anymore.” he muffled gruffly against her skin. “That’s how I knew you were important enough to matter once.” He pulled away and considered her with a mix of both wonder and uncertainty. “What is it you smell like now?” |
@[Lucrezia]
erratic much
