VELORCA TSEZAR LUDIMYR
Of course it would rain. Of course Novus and her cruel skies would choose this day to soak him, to flatten his satin coat and plaster his ebony and silver hair to his serpentine neck. The one time he'd left Solterra and it's everlasting sunlight. The one time.
He was in a foul mood because of it. Furious and bitter and pushed completely to the knife's edge on this day - a day of bloody memories and invisible stains. He hadn't even intended to cross the Steppe, just to flow silently along the borders of it, unseen and silent. Five years ago to the day he had been kidnapped and enslaved, his slim, youthful body and plump lips catching the eye of Zolin like a pearl in an oyster. He had been plucked from the harshness of a Davke lifestyle and plunged directly into a life of horror.
He had survived, though.
Adapted.
He had been trained from birth to fight, to survive - and survive he had done. Did to this day. Velorca had learnt all too quickly that the strength of a yearling, no matter how well trained, was not enough to cease the desire or the want of Zolin and his men. It was not enough to scream and fight against them when they pulled him to and fro - he had had to pretend to enjoy it, golden eyes bright as he planned each of their deaths over and over. Perhaps he'd learned to live that life too well and found himself lost in it. Perhaps he'd just changed.
It was why Velorca could not leave Solterra. It was their country, the Davke's, no matter how many years The Day Court ruled. No matter how far he had been pushed and molded and forced. So he watched and he sneered at the day courtiers, collecting information almost obsessively, sleeping with whoever he found the most desirable that day. Now when they looked at him their eyes slid over his argent skin, maybe lingering at how it clung so finely to his flawless bones, at how plump those sensual lips of his were, but caring little for the man underneath. They thought him vain, simple, careless - let them.
"You seem to be out of place here, Solterran."
Lorca looked up, his stunning face as cold as the rain that fell upon their bodies. He had not heard her approach, hadn't expected or wanted company.
"Fuck off"
Was his dismissive reply, arrogant gaze looking the lovely woman over as his soft lip curled and he looked away again. Rejecting her.
"What say you? Your god is fast asleep."
Velorca's golden eyes flashed dangerously and he snarled, whipping his slick head around;
"I said Fuck. Off!"
He lunged as he growled, bone white teeth snapping toward Aislinn's enigmatic face as he aimed to bite her eye or cheek - teeth scrabbling for a hold that would teach the fierce eyed Denoctian not to push Velorca Ludimyr.
Not today.
