[private] I wouldn't know where to start

[atrox]

hangman hooded, softly swinging; don't close the coffin yet, I'm alive

He’s thought of her, but it hasn’t been the thing of romance. Nothing between them has ever been of that. It has been mostly violence—hate, loathing. They have been the opposite side of the same coin. The counterweight to one another in more time than once. He’s felt the gravity of her in the way that one feels the gravity of the stone pulling you under. He knows the coppery taste of her. Knows what it sounds like when she screams, when her body splits open—and she knows the same of him.

It’s an odd intimacy.

Perhaps he should not be surprised it has led where it’s led.

There’s something of fury in him when he sees her, but he is surprised by how quickly it is dulled. How quickly he swallows the venom himself because if there is anyone to blame for the rift between himself and the angel of Hyaline, he knows it is himself. The panther stands on the border, considers slipping back into the shadows and turning from the trio, but there’s enough curiosity to pull him forward again.

He pads forth slowly until the twins come into more light. Curious, he angles his head at them before turning it toward Agetta. He notes the ragged appearance—the bones that appear far more prominent than the last time that they had met. Shifting, he shakes the dust from his coat. “You look awful.” There’s a gravel to his voice from lack of sleep, a huskiness that’s deeper, rougher than it usually is.

Still, a sardonic smile tilts the edges of his lips, dark humor planting there.

“I see you haven’t killed the one who looks like me yet. Your restrain is remarkable.”

ATROX | THE PANTHER KING