01-25-2021, 06:11 PM
“No, I don’t think I will.” She answers evenly, and there is no hint of his own gleaming amusement reflected back at him from the cool, glacial blue of her ocean eyes. Even his chuckle makes her teeth grind silently together, and she can feel an arrogant fury burning to life somewhere deep inside her - some buried vein of dark inside her chest likely borrowed from her father. She should soothe her fire and let this be forgotten, but she is too bothered by this beast who thought it acceptable to place his teeth on her skin.
Yet there is some part of her made curious over this wretched creature who can use his pointed teeth on the skin of a total stranger one moment, and the next moment chuckle and muse as though this is how civilized creatures do things.
He is made almost entirely of the ocean depths, more orca than equine, more wild than tame. Her eyes study him once more without apology, taking in the markings and fins, the hanging tail behind him. When she stops again it is on his teeth, which she acknowledges with a slight frown, and then looks away as though to dismiss any discomfort she feels from not having her eyes glued to him.
She is not prey.
“I can tell you directly that I dislike you without having to bury my teeth in your skin.” She points out, leaning heavily on her selkie voice in an effort to weave a compulsion of tameness in him, though he hardly seems feral now. “I rather like the civility of the land,” she says, her gaze returning to him briefly, “the sea seems to lack any mystery whatsoever.” It is an insult, of course, and she delivers it slyly with the hint of a smile.
She is of course nothing like what she allows him to believe. Not land-based, though he would never know it for the way she sheds her ocean skin and the stink of brine and fish. In this form she smells as much of the earth and sunshine as she does the sea. “Though I suppose it’s easy to love what you know, isn’t it.” Despite her distaste in him, she finds her gaze has remained on his face and his curious predator smile.
Yet there is some part of her made curious over this wretched creature who can use his pointed teeth on the skin of a total stranger one moment, and the next moment chuckle and muse as though this is how civilized creatures do things.
He is made almost entirely of the ocean depths, more orca than equine, more wild than tame. Her eyes study him once more without apology, taking in the markings and fins, the hanging tail behind him. When she stops again it is on his teeth, which she acknowledges with a slight frown, and then looks away as though to dismiss any discomfort she feels from not having her eyes glued to him.
She is not prey.
“I can tell you directly that I dislike you without having to bury my teeth in your skin.” She points out, leaning heavily on her selkie voice in an effort to weave a compulsion of tameness in him, though he hardly seems feral now. “I rather like the civility of the land,” she says, her gaze returning to him briefly, “the sea seems to lack any mystery whatsoever.” It is an insult, of course, and she delivers it slyly with the hint of a smile.
She is of course nothing like what she allows him to believe. Not land-based, though he would never know it for the way she sheds her ocean skin and the stink of brine and fish. In this form she smells as much of the earth and sunshine as she does the sea. “Though I suppose it’s easy to love what you know, isn’t it.” Despite her distaste in him, she finds her gaze has remained on his face and his curious predator smile.
alleria
pull me back to shore, i'll never reach my place
@[Cormorant]