02-18-2017, 02:00 AM
your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine. i don't love you, but i always will.
The corners of her lips twist into the faintest uptick of a sneer, her breath caught within her throat as her heavy eyelashes fall, shielding her hazel eyes. She turns her cheek away from him, drawing her skin away from his roving mouth, but still he finds her, and she cannot will herself to turn away again (and she does not know if she would ever want to). His words, though light and taunting, scald her with their fervor as something smolders within the darkened tone of his voice, rumbling against her skin, reverberating through her bone.
”Aren’t you lucky?” She murmurs dangerously, the heavy flames that pool and burn in the pit of her belly evident in her biting words – the façade of indifference faltering as her own eyes meet with his. The air, previously wrought with white-hot heat, crackles with electricity and tension. Her eyes search, the golden flecks along the outer rim of his iris entrancing her, but then the fierce inferno soon nothing but a flickering ember. Seamlessly, the emotion that had been previously apparent in his gaze dissipated, hardening into something indescribable and detached, leaving her feeling cold and empty in the aftermath.
An onslaught of emotions unexpectedly overwhelms her, wrought with disappointment, anger, longing, and shame. She had always kept her sentiments hidden away under lock and key with anyone else, stoic in one moment, and at times a blinding fury of taunting remarks and scathing words – but with him, with him, she too easily came undone, and he unraveled her with such little effort. Though she had attempted again to steel herself away from him, the emotions she’d so carefully tucked away were beginning to pool at the surface.
His voice is even and neutral, the gentle warmth gone, leaving behind a frigid frost that makes her own blood to turn cold. His words carry little emotion, bordering on dismissive and it takes every fiber of her being to contain the surge of fury that threatens to burst forth from the seams. The temptation to lash out, to strike him is nearly insatiable, but she suffocates the urge, though her muscles tremble from the effort.
Is there anything else you need from me?
She realizes that there had been more spoken in the moments before, but she hadn’t noticed, nor had she listened. The words were empty and useless; nothing but a blank and emotionless slew of syllables that meant little and nothing in comparison to what was left unspoken. He has pulled himself away, leaving a grievous wound in his wake, her chest heaving with shallow breaths as she struggles to maintain some semblance of self-control – but soon, she is collapsing, her resolve crumbling away into dust as her own eyes become filled with furious unshed tears.
”Hot and cold,” she murmurs, her voice unsteady and uneven, though her hazel eyes no longer seek to avoid his own – she bores into him, flickering green meeting with flecks of golden light, unbending and steadfast. ”isn’t that always the way, Magnus? A constant struggle between sating the natural urges while suppressing the heart.” Though seemingly poetic, there is no mistaking the biting edge to her words. A delicately woven insult. ”Useful when you see fit to sate those urges, but always kept at a distance – always kept at bay.” She muses now, the strength returning in her tone as it rises several decibels, her gaze never leaving his.
”Do not insult me by cloaking your words with diplomacy – your actions speak louder.” Her skin still burns where his teeth had gripped her possessively.
Her voice wavers again, though she swallows the wretched emotion that rises again within her throat (but she cannot quell the tears that spill over, staining her golden skin).
Finally, a lie. ”I need nothing from you.”
Ellyse