you could break my heart in two, but when it heals, it beats for you
Every story about Kensa begins with once upon a time there was a sweet girl, impatient to see the world…
Those stories all end with the woman who Brigade stands before.
When first she invited him near it had been with the easy confident charm that most see, she hadn’t been in the mood for overt flirtation or to simply pluck those few chords that pull men apart so that she can look at their insides. Now she sees that would not have worked on Brigade anyway, even if she had wanted him that way just then.
He had frightened her, and she realizes she has become too accustomed to others yielding to her beauty in the daylight. If she had met him with her dark heart dragged out onto her sleeve they might have come together effortlessly and then likely never spoken again.
But she wants him, wants his anger, and the burn of his stormy eyes even if she should not. She wants to break into him and feel him crash over her. Kensa could have a body likes his cover hers anytime but it would not feel like Brigade. She knows though she has never touched him that he is singular. Her desires are not just desires, but a soul deep longing to know him that should not have manifested so quickly.
His rebuff—for that is what she hears—does not strike her in the way she prepared for. It hurts, yes, but it angers her too. The rejection and irritation tumbling together and creasing her brow. Here in the middle of the sea that he had placed between them it is cold. Kensa freezes and burns, embarrassed and furious and still more embarrassed by that.
“I will do as I please.” Managing to spit the words in exchange for the warning. His eyes belong to the wolves she knows from her childhood. Better to stand her ground than to run from a lone predator lest he bring her low as she retreats.
He holds on even as he tells her to go.
So she presses in again, dropping her ears back into the blond mess of her mane, but still never touching him, coming close enough that the bridge of her nose hovers inches from his when her arch neck is so drawn. The tension in her frame animating her anew when she hisses at him, those panting breaths easily passing for anger. “You may never come to me, but I am not going to be frightened away by your hateful glares.”
Kensa
@[brigade]
