toaru
She is a boa, wrapping her way around him bit by bit and squeezing tighter and tighter. He lets her. So Fever bites again and again, her words shredding ribbons of him, flaying him to the bone; every syllable spit out is another tear in their tapestry. It's almost with a desperation that he threads every bit of their unwinding story back together; piece by piece he stitches her back into his life regardless if it is love or hate that binds them. She could take the air from his lungs and he would let her have the last of it. How can she not see that in his eyes? Are they so cold, so dead, so changed that she has forgotten what it is to read their future they carved together so many years ago from every minute change in them? She must have because she continues with laughter, with growls. A reign of terror, a monopoly of madness. And his eyes widen marginally as she spews out her own poison for him to swallow down. He stumbles, wishing desperately to rip the veil from her head and let the light in again... "Is that all you think of yourself now?" Toaru did not know how much that thought would sting him, but it does.
Like salt to an open wound, that she should paint herself evil is what upsets him the most. He could almost bring himself to kiss her just to get her to be quiet, but he knows in this state she's more likely to bite his tongue off if he even tries. As she lunges toward him (rightly deserved) he does not shy. Should she bite him it would be a scar he would remember fondly - it would prove that Fever is still alive somewhere in this wicked world and that it is not so lonely anymore. Not when his first friend, perhaps his only friend, is still out there with a smile and curved laughter lighting her face from time to time.
So he circles her instead, he crowds into her space and smells the spice of her breath as it washes over him. Before him she preens, exposing herself as a feast for him and him alone. If only that were true.
Lips curl in some cruel sneer and it is clearer than the day pouring down on him that he is not impressed. He cannot manage to push her away, not when he's come so close, and instead she drags from his lips a shattered prayer he must have told her or whispered a million times before. "You've always been stunning and you know it," if only she hadn't grown into something so wretched to use it against him like this. For he is still a man, and his heart still aches as he watches her flirt. How many others has she put on this exact display for? "We can't all have such lofty egos and balance as carefully as you, little dancer," he counters with a growl. Noting how she looks down her nose at him, noting how she smirks and braces herself, noting how she expects him to snarl and roar like a beast.
"I am not the monster you want me to be," Toaru states at last, his chin drops just slightly as though he's near ready to turn away, to give her this battle and let her claim her victory if it would please her. He's only ever tried to please her, hasn't he? From silly stories to a world where she could wear satin and silk, where she could eat like a king if she so chose. All of it for her, for those children that didn't have a choice, a voice... Can't she see it anymore?
He is ready to leave her on a sigh, on a breath he can't quite seem to take back in, but she moves more quickly than he with that serpentine neck. Slithering near, Toaru can smell the spice of her breath, and feel the heat of her cheek that is so close to his own. As she whispers, broken and bleeding, he ever so gently presses their cheeks together and lets her confess. Lets her break against him, and he will be the coast on which she can wash up on over and over again. He would catch her. No matter her sin or folly. He would let her press herself into his side and curl up with him in the cold hours of the night, and then he would let her disappear again. "I waited years, Fefe," he whispers it into the skin of her neck, pressing the truth into her very skin and hoping it would sink in. Some part of him, perhaps, is still waiting for her in that alley to show up. "I'd still wait years for you to come home again," he whispers between them only after she retreats and turns away. If she wished it, he would let her go. He would let her burn her Solterra and he would pick through the ashes for their paradise. What more does she want when he would still give everything he has?
"speech"
Like salt to an open wound, that she should paint herself evil is what upsets him the most. He could almost bring himself to kiss her just to get her to be quiet, but he knows in this state she's more likely to bite his tongue off if he even tries. As she lunges toward him (rightly deserved) he does not shy. Should she bite him it would be a scar he would remember fondly - it would prove that Fever is still alive somewhere in this wicked world and that it is not so lonely anymore. Not when his first friend, perhaps his only friend, is still out there with a smile and curved laughter lighting her face from time to time.
So he circles her instead, he crowds into her space and smells the spice of her breath as it washes over him. Before him she preens, exposing herself as a feast for him and him alone. If only that were true.
Lips curl in some cruel sneer and it is clearer than the day pouring down on him that he is not impressed. He cannot manage to push her away, not when he's come so close, and instead she drags from his lips a shattered prayer he must have told her or whispered a million times before. "You've always been stunning and you know it," if only she hadn't grown into something so wretched to use it against him like this. For he is still a man, and his heart still aches as he watches her flirt. How many others has she put on this exact display for? "We can't all have such lofty egos and balance as carefully as you, little dancer," he counters with a growl. Noting how she looks down her nose at him, noting how she smirks and braces herself, noting how she expects him to snarl and roar like a beast.
"I am not the monster you want me to be," Toaru states at last, his chin drops just slightly as though he's near ready to turn away, to give her this battle and let her claim her victory if it would please her. He's only ever tried to please her, hasn't he? From silly stories to a world where she could wear satin and silk, where she could eat like a king if she so chose. All of it for her, for those children that didn't have a choice, a voice... Can't she see it anymore?
He is ready to leave her on a sigh, on a breath he can't quite seem to take back in, but she moves more quickly than he with that serpentine neck. Slithering near, Toaru can smell the spice of her breath, and feel the heat of her cheek that is so close to his own. As she whispers, broken and bleeding, he ever so gently presses their cheeks together and lets her confess. Lets her break against him, and he will be the coast on which she can wash up on over and over again. He would catch her. No matter her sin or folly. He would let her press herself into his side and curl up with him in the cold hours of the night, and then he would let her disappear again. "I waited years, Fefe," he whispers it into the skin of her neck, pressing the truth into her very skin and hoping it would sink in. Some part of him, perhaps, is still waiting for her in that alley to show up. "I'd still wait years for you to come home again," he whispers between them only after she retreats and turns away. If she wished it, he would let her go. He would let her burn her Solterra and he would pick through the ashes for their paradise. What more does she want when he would still give everything he has?
