Paaartaaay; Open

[brigade]

BRIGADE

He wishes that she would let him off the hook.

He wishes that she would just let him go—would stop looking at him with questions in her eyes that he would never be able to answer. He wishes that he could explain to her the bruises that won’t just go away or the way his heart has turned into a mangled, ugly thing. But he can’t and he doesn’t even know where to begin and the more that they walk, the more he begins to feel a sense of panic rise in him.

That instinctual need to just run.

That lighting of nerves on fire that tell him to go, go, go.

But before he can take his leave, she is stopping him and it only serves to set his temper. His eyes go hot and he bites down, his steel grey head swinging in her direction. For a second, he is still—too still—and then he takes a step back away from the brush of her wings, from the touch he had not invited.

“I don’t take well to being told what to do,” he answers from between gritted teeth, his lips spreading into a smile that has no warmth. “And I think I have had my fill of parties.” Another step as he fights against his own temper and fear and confusion—everything within him that he loathes.

“I think I will take my leave.” 

His nostrils flare as he feels a small slip of relief at the idea.

“I hope you enjoy the party.”

And then before she can ask any further questions, he turns on his heel and walks toward the portal.

the world was on fire and no one could save me but you
it's strange what desire will make foolish people do

@[Nimue Isolde] - I'm sorry! He's the worst. D: