04-12-2017, 11:05 AM
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He hadn’t meant to fall into this game. But for a wonderful moment, so fleetingly brief, he thought he’d won. There was a shift in her expression, subtle, but gone was the mockery. He watched her gaze shift to roam across his bruised and battered chest. An inkling of concern fleeting in the delicate crease of her brow, he did not wish to imagine it. His tension softened. He thought about saying something uncharacteristically mushy, not an apology, because he wasn’t at fault. But perhaps something friendly, softer, and less weighted with accusation. He hadn’t intended to be this brash, he had sought her out for more than this. “Lu…” ‘Your foal?’ There was a ring to her tone he wasn’t sure he liked. But yes, that’s what he’d said. That little blue freak should have been his. ‘She was not yours to claim, by her own free will she was able to choose.’ Huh? He stared at her, mouth falling partially ajar like a fool. ‘Maybe you are just upset because she did not choose you.’ No, he hadn’t won. And to him, Lucrezia’s smile grew beautifully cruel. The pretence of any victory he thought he’d had gnashed to shreds by those ivory teeth he glimpsed behind the lips of that mocking grin of hers. He’d never admit that she’d nailed it. No one chose him. A fact so unbending it’d become solidly instilled into the core of what he’d become. Bitter and angry and twisted. He shut his mouth with a strangled sound, part growl and half other. He’d have surged to evaporate what was left of the shadowy air between them himself had Lucrezia not already began her dogged loom towards him. It was almost too similar in the way he had done to her in those days when he had been bigger and she had been something he thought he could control. She didn’t do it like he did though, too much flounce. Although he supposed there was something powerful to be said in the way she clomped closer, slicing through the crap to finally expose the bare bones of his matter. He’d always admired those who could do away with all that fluff, and she did smell oddly magnificent. ‘Then tell me what you want’ she says, her breath so close and hot that it ate through the fine hairs of his face and seeped into his skin. He wanted to snap at her bloody vengeance, among other things, though that wasn’t the heart of it, couldn’t be, there were things he didn’t know, had missed out on. He reasoned that the puzzle which had thwarted him was one she could solve. It was how to make her do it that he found himself unfortunately stuck on. He clenched his teeth and sucked in a deep inhale of air. Forget the foal, be friendly… she did smell good… And he tried very hard to look beyond her mockery, even if that meant not looking at her. “Your father, King Rodrik… is he…” still king? Still alive? |
@[Lucrezia]