BRIGADE
She sharpens underneath his gaze and he wants to urge her to keep that jagged edge. He wants to cheer her on for realizing that he is dangerous, that he is cruel, that her sharp beauty deserves so much more than his dull company. Her beauty, so refined and elegant, only magnifies with the sudden edges that it grows, the eyes that grow fiery and the ears that sudden lie flat, and he likes her more like this—likes the way that she suddenly feels more real and grounded and then wonders at why he hungers for her more.
But he can’t tell her such things, can’t even admit it to himself.
Instead he drowns in his own youthful desires and an ocean of churning emotions that he can barely keep his head above. He just watches her waiver between fierce and soft, hardened and delicate, straightening as she closes the distance between them. Her stomach clenches when she says that she wants him to come and he wants to plead with her to put the daggers back in her eyes, to keep him at an arm’s length.
He could consume her.
He could consume her and leave nothing.
She could consume him and he would let her.
Foolish, foolish boy.
“Maybe,” is all he gives and the rasp on the end of his voice nearly gives away the thundering of his heart in his chest—the sound of a waterfall beating against the dam. Suddenly, his gaze turns nearly predatory as he studies her, the colors of her eyes in stark relief now that she is closer, the fine details doing nothing to detract from the stunning beauty and doing everything to amplify it. His nostrils flare as he drinks in the air, the scent of her, that raging fire that refuses to be contained as he watches the curve of her mouth.
“You should stay far away from me,” he finally warns, his voice decidedly darker.
He almost takes a step back to punctuate his point but he remains rooted.
His grey eyes flick up and find her own, holding onto her gaze without letting go.
the world was on fire and no one could save me but you
it's strange what desire will make foolish people do
@[Kensa]