this reckless wandering love was never ours; risk

[sochi]

sochi

She does not recognize the thing that prowls forward from the shadows. She does not recognize the feline eyes or the fangs or the armor the crawls up its sides. Does not recognize the features, even as they contort beneath his own gifts. But the truth is that she recognizes him. Recognizes the hatred and the way he hunts the hunter. Recognizes the need that drives him forward, even when he spits and snaps at her.

Nothing like fear comes to the surface. Nothing reacts in her and her eyes sharpen.

“You’ve come to kill me then?” Her voice is husky and low, her lips spreading into a wide smile, the white of her teeth only mildly stained with the crimson of her kill that still drips down her chin. There is nearly something thrilling about the idea of him trying to kill her—something that makes her feel nearly alive with the thought of life slowly draining from her. Would it hurt? How much exactly could she heal?

He circles but she doesn’t move. She just tilts her head, an ear flicking slightly as she monitors the way that he prowls around her, a tail twitching. When he comes back into her direct line of sight, she doesn’t bother to hide the way that her yellow eyes go to his throat, evaluating the thick of the scales that grow.

“I’ve killed a lot in my life,” she confesses but there’s no guilt that comes with the words, nothing that brings the shame she had fought against so much in her early life. “I don’t know if you are one of the victims,” she says with a smile, shaking lightly and feeling drops of blood fly from her.

“If you were, then I have no regrets. Death clearly has loose fingers nowadays.”

well, I can try to get you closer but I know you’d break your neck just to see the stars
and if we don’t dare to hold it then this reckless wandering love was never ours