sometimes I'm terrified of my heart;
of its constant hunger for whatever it is it wants —
She was an insatiable thing, and she supposes someday that it will be her undoing. She will learn that you cannot want everything, and that to actually have everything would come at a price. The young girl doesn’t understand that now, though. She foolishly thinks that the world is hers, and that everything in it is hers for the taking. She thinks she can want and she can take, and that if her pretty things don’t come to her willingly then she will twist and bend whatever she must until they do.
Draco was one of the first things she remembers wanting. She hadn’t been able to recognize that feeling when they first met, because she was still fresh and naive. But Thomas had sparked something inside of her, unknowingly, and once those tendrils of greed finally gripped her, there was no shaking them loose.
With an overdramatic roll of her eyes, she sighs in exasperation. “I know, and yet, we still somehow never see each other.” She tips her delicate head up at him again, blinking her long, black lashes as she suggests in a way that is far too sweet to ever be considered genuine, “I’m starting to think maybe you just don’t like me.”
There is a pause, and even though he has turned his gaze away from hers, she answers him with a breathy laugh, “I suppose some think it’s an odd name for my mother to choose, but, I guess you’d have to know my mother to know it’s not strange coming from her.”
He teases her, and she holds his red eyes steadily with her own, her stare oddly impassive. “What is your heart’s desire, Draco?” She murmurs softly, and as she does so she crafts her illusion – just a brief, flickering veil, where for a heartbeat she turns silver and pale, with stars across her sides and delicate snowflakes on her nose, and eyes an intense midnight-blue. But in a breath, it vanishes, and it is just her, and she watches him with a smile hiding in her impossibly black eyes.
Draco was one of the first things she remembers wanting. She hadn’t been able to recognize that feeling when they first met, because she was still fresh and naive. But Thomas had sparked something inside of her, unknowingly, and once those tendrils of greed finally gripped her, there was no shaking them loose.
With an overdramatic roll of her eyes, she sighs in exasperation. “I know, and yet, we still somehow never see each other.” She tips her delicate head up at him again, blinking her long, black lashes as she suggests in a way that is far too sweet to ever be considered genuine, “I’m starting to think maybe you just don’t like me.”
There is a pause, and even though he has turned his gaze away from hers, she answers him with a breathy laugh, “I suppose some think it’s an odd name for my mother to choose, but, I guess you’d have to know my mother to know it’s not strange coming from her.”
He teases her, and she holds his red eyes steadily with her own, her stare oddly impassive. “What is your heart’s desire, Draco?” She murmurs softly, and as she does so she crafts her illusion – just a brief, flickering veil, where for a heartbeat she turns silver and pale, with stars across her sides and delicate snowflakes on her nose, and eyes an intense midnight-blue. But in a breath, it vanishes, and it is just her, and she watches him with a smile hiding in her impossibly black eyes.
Desire