03-05-2017, 11:32 PM
I don't do discreet.
Thrown solidly at their feet, as heavy and bland as his stupid, cold and deadened heart. His blackness manifested from the dark shadows, his jaw tight as he masked the excruciating physical pain he was in. Even now, his bones were rolling within him, rumbling and shifting and pressing against the inside of his skin, rupturing so painfully slowly. Bleeding freely, as always, more so by the phase of transformation. He was here, though, and he'd seen enough.
No, he certainly didn't do discreet. He maimed and obliterated in broad daylight, made a gory mess of someone else's bloody life without a care to witnesses. He was ruthless, brutal. Trained to be quick, deadly. Lethal. Discreet never came up in his rigorous instruction. But you already know this, he said pointedly, hard, black eyes locked onto the blue and white dagger he'd held so delicately, so reverently. That hadn't been discreet either, in the wide, open meadow for all eyes to see. His time with Leliana too, as he pressed her beneath him in a bed of wildflowers.
He skirted around Leliana without looking at her, avoiding her magic and her precious heart, focused and intent, and far too aware of the ache in his chest at ruining her life some more. It was what he always did, many times over. This other though, she had only seen a peek at the destruction that followed in his wake. He was the catalyst, the decimator. It chose no sides, harmed all. She was yet unscathed, unless his affection had unknowingly done so. But it was doubtful.
He approached, stepped close to this confident woman that had gifted him with her rare softness, just a brief moment. Just a peek. There was more to her than this cold exterior. More to her than he'd ever share with others. He reached slowly, his breath fanning her cheek where he paused. You overstep here, he whispered darkly, moving on to drift over her neck, her shoulder. Never touching, only reminding, only remembering. She knew Leliana from his memories, knew to take her face and no other. Had seen what it did to him.
He could be lethal, or he could be heat.
She could be the dagger at his throat, or the one turned to her own breast.
Make a choice.
Thrown solidly at their feet, as heavy and bland as his stupid, cold and deadened heart. His blackness manifested from the dark shadows, his jaw tight as he masked the excruciating physical pain he was in. Even now, his bones were rolling within him, rumbling and shifting and pressing against the inside of his skin, rupturing so painfully slowly. Bleeding freely, as always, more so by the phase of transformation. He was here, though, and he'd seen enough.
No, he certainly didn't do discreet. He maimed and obliterated in broad daylight, made a gory mess of someone else's bloody life without a care to witnesses. He was ruthless, brutal. Trained to be quick, deadly. Lethal. Discreet never came up in his rigorous instruction. But you already know this, he said pointedly, hard, black eyes locked onto the blue and white dagger he'd held so delicately, so reverently. That hadn't been discreet either, in the wide, open meadow for all eyes to see. His time with Leliana too, as he pressed her beneath him in a bed of wildflowers.
He skirted around Leliana without looking at her, avoiding her magic and her precious heart, focused and intent, and far too aware of the ache in his chest at ruining her life some more. It was what he always did, many times over. This other though, she had only seen a peek at the destruction that followed in his wake. He was the catalyst, the decimator. It chose no sides, harmed all. She was yet unscathed, unless his affection had unknowingly done so. But it was doubtful.
He approached, stepped close to this confident woman that had gifted him with her rare softness, just a brief moment. Just a peek. There was more to her than this cold exterior. More to her than he'd ever share with others. He reached slowly, his breath fanning her cheek where he paused. You overstep here, he whispered darkly, moving on to drift over her neck, her shoulder. Never touching, only reminding, only remembering. She knew Leliana from his memories, knew to take her face and no other. Had seen what it did to him.
He could be lethal, or he could be heat.
She could be the dagger at his throat, or the one turned to her own breast.
Make a choice.
