Were he an outsider looking in, enjoying the interplay with the voyeuristic appreciation of a reader or film-goer, he might have leaned in eagerly. It was the classic setup for a rom-com villain: be charming, be edgy, sweep the quirky female protagonist off her feet in a moment of thoughtless vulnerability, and a whole world of exquisite melodrama may unfurl like a budding rose for the consumption of the hungry masses.
But Raymond was not a rom-com villain, and he had no desire to break the mare's heart. He simply acted however felt right, adapting his mannerisms to draw the most out of his dance partners, and he had done this for so long it was a rare occasion that he noticed himself doing it.
Emboldened by drink, she had drawn close. He had come closer. Now he laughed - not harshly, but because her response was so recklessly direct. One could rightly be concerned for her ability to rationally decide such things, but he loved her spirit and already knew the distance from here to the steppes. She would have plenty of time to reconsider her choice, and Raymond wasn't the sort to follow through without consent.
Combatives and sex have a few things in common, chief among them being this: if one party doesn't agree to participate, the other one is committing a crime.
The red stallion tilted toward her, his tail subtly arced through the space around their legs like a shield to draw her close and push the rest of the world away.
"I'm always game for a demonstration," he replied smoothly, "but the Steppes may be a slightly better venue for swordplay."
Blood on the air in this gathering was likely to start a proper riot.
Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
@Pavetta - I love her. Sorry this is bad, my brain is melting from a 13 hour drive. I will post a battle starter for us in the morning, but absolutely feel free to continue the thread!
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
