she'll tear a hole in you; daemron

[Daemron]

and you’re so mysterious, got that obsession with death got your unkind of ravens and your murder of crows “Talk to me,” he murmurs as her silence lengthens ominously. But it happens again, right before his eyes, and again he is powerless to stop it. She shuts herself away. (Will it always be like this?) One minute, she is glorious and burning and alive — and the next she is as cool and smooth as stone. This masked face devoid of emotion (so raw and real only moments before) is not hers. He knows, feels, believes that the empty expression she wears is only a disguise. And he wants her to stop hiding. “Don’t disappear on me again,” he says, low and rumbling. His voice comes more harshly than he’d intended — a plea wreathed in accusation. But she touches his cheek, lies through her teeth, smiles and tells him that he's been fun, that she can’t stay. “Yeah,” he laughs then, “Sure, Pyxis. It’s been fun.” His mouth is sour with the mere taste of such words, but he is short-tempered in his defeat. He doesn't know how to keep her — and how could he, if she didn't want to stay? I should go. Like clockwork. “Maybe you should,” he says roughly, averting his gaze. “It’s what you do, right? You run.” His willowed tail snaps at his haunches as he steels himself against her departure. “You’re good at it.” The dread of losing her before he’s ever had her scrapes away at his insides. “So run.” (Because he is hollow, too.) He doesn’t see the way she falters when she looks at Red. He doesn’t see the wolf rising suddenly to her feet as Pyxis tells him, don’t try to find me again. Daemron catches the animalistic snarl that rises to his throat, silencing it before it ever surfaces. He says nothing. He would not have turned to see her leaving (to witness his heart being dragged off to bleed out with her) had he not heard the soft padding of wolf-paws following after her. His chestnut head whips about, his gaze narrowing. “Red,” he growls, unable to suppress it now. The lanky canine pauses midstep, angling her head back at him. Her intent is plain, there in her dark and knowing eyes, and there is a responding flash in the grey glow of his. It is the first time his wolf has ignored him — and with her head low and her eyes bright, she trails after the mare into the darkness. daemron cause you’re so dark, oh, but I want you hard

I figured you could have some fun with wolfie >:-)
play her out however, in other posts too if you want to space it out a little, but maybe she could somehow wrangle them back together?
because let's be real, another thread soon <333 #poutyponiesunite