no one really knows what the ocean hides
but you and I, bird, we’re gonna find out
It thrills her to make him into a liar, to mold him into something he never was.
Pteron, such a kind boy. Bashful, handsome, polite. He is, and always has been, everything that she is not. While there is a wild beauty emanating from her, Reia’s feral and volatile personality destroyed what hopes father had to make her diplomatic. Set free into the world, she is as untamed as the fire crackling down her crest and tail.
Pteron, such a kind boy. She, the tempestuous princess of Loess, has broken him.
Indeed, his routine has etched itself into her memory. For weeks, she observed him from afar and permitted him the fleeting idea that she did not notice his coming and going. She fed him the lies that he was eluding her successfully when in fact she was helping build his foolish confidence until he would slip.
And slip he does.
A jagged, Cheshire grin stretches across her mouth as she stands and waits for him along the beaten path. From the shadows, she hunted him, pursued him until his direction became clear. With an air of smug success, she stands illuminated by the moonlight when his olive green eyes find her. The hesitance is all but spoken. It’s in the way his muscles flinch, how his ears swivel undecidedly, and how the shadows darken his face. ”Pteron,” she icily greets with a tilt of her head, watching him intensely when he finally agrees to come forward. There’s not a warm embrace or loving croon tethering their worlds together. What they have is a firestorm of ill passion and sinful lust. Patiently, Reia waits until he is a few yards away before taking a few steps toward him, her eyes flashing in the night. The eerie smile of a successful huntress flickers when she watches his eyes dreadfully creep down her body.
Now, they both know.
When he asks his question – she wonders if it was meant to be as snide as it sounded – Reia immediately snarls. ”Of course it is, you dummy,” but she wonders why she is already so large. Mother was never so heavily pregnant with Niklaus. The probability of twins never crosses her mind.
A sigh of air is what gradually dissipates the aggressive furrow of her brow. The crackling fire plays with the chirping crickets as a backdrop to their conversation. ”I told you, Pteron. I – we – are yours,” there is a clawing satisfaction in her voice as it pierces through the sounds of nightfall to reach him. ”And now, you’ve become mine because of this.” Dead or alive, their worlds are finally woven together because of the miracle growing in her womb.
and I'll be next to you when the lights go out
@[Pteron]