Something's got a hold on me || Wishbone ||

[Wolfbane]

I believe I'd die if I only could

I sure feel strange, but it sure feels good

Because they’re friends and they know each other intimately, not as lovers but as something with much deeper roots, Wolfbane sees the light in her whiskey-stirred eyes fade and the determination settle in just as clearly as @[Wishbone] sees beyond the mask he wears so unfashionably well. She recognizes the sickness immediately and for the first time in nearly two years gone by, Bane can feel the slightest warmth of hope springing up underneath the muck and slime inside. “We all succumb to the curse,” the others whisper to him, those wanton spirits of his ancestors left empty and hollow who taunt, torture, and even rule his physical form, “so must you.” They hiss. They don’t desire the same thing Bane had when he’d eaten Wyrm’s heart; they lusted for the specific revenge of having another spirit added to the tally.

And yet, Wishbone doesn’t recoil from him. She stands her ground and sets her heels in like she always has, and her calculated silence after Wolfbane’s comments feeds that seedling of hope deep, deep down in the empty caverns of Bane’s waning soul. “She won’t give up on me.” He thinks against the silent jeers and cackling laughter. He had watched her dive precariously into much more dangerous situations and even saved her from a few, but Wishbone always followed through.

“Hmm.” The bulky male seemed to laugh, lower in his throat and with his lips closed. Most who end up dead never expect to come back to life in the first place. Wishbone had done that and come back slightly upgraded, sauntering into life again dressed in a svelte evening gown with golden markings a horse like himself could obviously appreciate. Boldly the two appraised one another, making quite an interesting scene. Horses nearby had paused to glance up and take in the sight of her (who wouldn’t?) edging closer for a dangerous look. Wolfbane ignored them in favor of memorizing the new lines of her gleaming face, remarking quietly to himself on the beautiful proportions and tribal-esque veneer she wore.

“Funny.” He murmured, “I feel more alive than ever. I guess I am…” He paused for effect, glancing away to the horses who’d gone back to their own business, “Different.”

His gaze returned, the eyes staring back at her fading into a rich emerald hue.
In that split second a thousand possibilities roared into his head: “Grab her, choke her” - “Kiss her” - “Lead her away somewhere quiet”
Those thousand ideas brought a thousand emotions with them, so much feeling that Lepis herself might feel overwhelmed by it all, since before this moment he’d felt nothing and empty.

“You act like you aren’t happy to see me, Bone.” Her oldest friend breathed heavily, the accusation a pure mockery of genuine hurt. He could feel the pressure of his canines as they thickened and grew, sliding out from under his upper lip to gleam wickedly. “Did death change your feelings toward me as well as your looks?” He shivered, trying his best to keep the hounding desires at bay for as long as he could.

For this thread:  Sex: M  ◉  Appearance: Normal  ◉  Mood: Indifferent