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i am the vanguard of your destruction
Games. He was always playing them, wasn't he? One way or another he danced with words, bodies, toyed with lives, and frequently it was his own—and his sanity—that he tossed onto the board. Watched it squirm. The majority of things done against him had been his own doing, one way or another. Some, simply because he hadn't been good enough to prevent them. And some, because he seemed to be terminally stupid.
Like now. With another female breathing on his cheek, her body smelling of sweat and salt and mare. Letting her touch him (and secretly, enjoying it). Was it because she reminded him of Psyche? Or just because, for today, he'd fallen so deep into the pit he couldn't remember how to care? That he just cherished whatever scrap of faux-life his battered, ragged nerves could produce, with a few chemicals that would dry up when they'd run their course?
He didn't want to fall into his thoughts, to ruin the moment by being responsible. He didn't want to be Mauja.
He hated Mauja.
She'd given him respite from the white beast, and asked for the favor to be returned. Did she hint at having an allegiance, maybe even a mate? Then what was she doing, going about touching men she didn't know? (Maybe the same as him. Escaping.)
But, rude that he was, he didn't answer her immediately, just bit her cheek, lightly. She tasted like she smelled, but clearly—and in hindsight, he wasn't surprised—she wasn't too fond of what he'd done. Eyed him weirdly. "That was rude." He was inclined to agree.
"Was it?" he asked softly, his voice neutral, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her sentiment—just soft, hushed. There was no guilt in his eyes, just that awakened, mild interest, and he reached out, to close the gap he'd made between them. He reached out, because he wanted to touch her, and not just be touched. Because he wanted to run his plush muzzle along the edge of her jaw and up her cheek, past her eye to her ear, and whisper,
"Alleshia,".
[ @[Sialia], and you have no idea how much trouble giving her a name gave me/us ><; originally he was going with something a bit more fucked up but uhm.. he decided 10 minutes after posting that no, he didn't want to have it that way. ]
Like now. With another female breathing on his cheek, her body smelling of sweat and salt and mare. Letting her touch him (and secretly, enjoying it). Was it because she reminded him of Psyche? Or just because, for today, he'd fallen so deep into the pit he couldn't remember how to care? That he just cherished whatever scrap of faux-life his battered, ragged nerves could produce, with a few chemicals that would dry up when they'd run their course?
He didn't want to fall into his thoughts, to ruin the moment by being responsible. He didn't want to be Mauja.
He hated Mauja.
She'd given him respite from the white beast, and asked for the favor to be returned. Did she hint at having an allegiance, maybe even a mate? Then what was she doing, going about touching men she didn't know? (Maybe the same as him. Escaping.)
But, rude that he was, he didn't answer her immediately, just bit her cheek, lightly. She tasted like she smelled, but clearly—and in hindsight, he wasn't surprised—she wasn't too fond of what he'd done. Eyed him weirdly. "That was rude." He was inclined to agree.
"Was it?" he asked softly, his voice neutral, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her sentiment—just soft, hushed. There was no guilt in his eyes, just that awakened, mild interest, and he reached out, to close the gap he'd made between them. He reached out, because he wanted to touch her, and not just be touched. Because he wanted to run his plush muzzle along the edge of her jaw and up her cheek, past her eye to her ear, and whisper,
"Alleshia,".
[ @[Sialia], and you have no idea how much trouble giving her a name gave me/us ><; originally he was going with something a bit more fucked up but uhm.. he decided 10 minutes after posting that no, he didn't want to have it that way. ]
