I call him the devil because he makes me want to sin
(and every time he knocks, I can't help but let him in)
She is feisty and he appreciates it, undeterred by the chill to her stare and edge to her voice.
Good, fight back.
His mouth draws outward and upward into a perfect pantomime of his father’s cold crocodile smile, Bruise not bothering to move away from the snap of her teeth. If he needed to get away quickly, he was more than capable of removing himself from the situation. For now, he did not fear her.
But she would fear him.
At first, his fingers dance upon the threads of the Fear that dance around and above them, the colors of them tangible to him—bright as wildflowers bursting into life. He practically hums with pleasure, taking his time to find the right ones, moving deftly over them, plucking at them softly as he watches her.
“Who said I have a desire to keep anything,” he says quietly, never letting the volume of his voice rise. He preferred the husk of his whisper, the depth of it; let them strain to hear him, not the other way around. “Who said I will keep anything from you,” another promise, velvety on his sinner’s tongue.
With alien speed and grace, he peels away from her side and moves to her other, cloven hooves skimming the ground, the motion thrilling him to his core. He reaches up and out, picking the strings he chose to play and pulling upon them deftly, waiting to feel the rush of adrenaline, the pooling of blood in her veins, the widening of her eyes. He could practically feel the Fear creeping up upon them.
Still, part of him hopes she fights it; part of him hopes that she denies him the rush. Makes him work for it. He reaches over, lips brushing over the edges of her forbidden jaw. “My name is Bruise,” he says with the softness of a lover, as if he was caressing her gently and not beckoning forth terror from her very core.
If / how she responds to fear induction is completely up to you! <3