You're one microscopic cog
In his catastrophic plan,
In his catastrophic plan,
Subtle amusement turned Lorca's eyes bright as she admitted her tolerance to liquor, a smooth voice murmuring within him, You don't say?
He'd come across many hard drinkers in his time amid the sheets, and Cyrene didn't look like one of them. The thought stole the hard-won light within his golden eyes, though they still studied the lion-eyed girl as she drank — slowly, sensually. Velorca tried and failed not to watch, his focus lingering on her beautiful mouth and the way her eyes closed in pleasure, lashes fluttering delicately against soft cheeks. He'd always been more inclined to spend his time with men, had found his desire lay with broad shoulders and strong chests, hard lines and handsome smiles.
But it had been so long since he'd had an emotion like that to himself it was likely he'd forgotten the difference between what he liked and what he received. Cyrene certainly didn't fit the description of his usual client, so perhaps that was why he found himself so inclined to continue speaking with her — or maybe it was the way her auburn skin caught the firelight, how her long lashed eyes went beyond kind and into territory Lorca wasn't sure he was quite ready to venture. She was too genuine, too... accepting?
His name on her lips was too innocent. Lorca looked away as she looked to the sky, staring instead at the far off bonfires even as he savoured the sound of it, felt almost inclined to ask her not to use it again... for though it was his name and had at one time been the only thing he'd owned, it had been tainted by too many lips, too many rough hands.
A place across the sea,
She mused, and Lorca allowed himself to consider that there were other countries, other worlds out there that hadn't seen the cruelty he had — or that had suffered their own cruelties.
And I plan to stay..
He shouldn't have felt anything for her yet, shouldn't have cared whether or not it would be the last he saw of her but... Lorca felt a small kernel of gladness flutter to life within his gold flaked ribs, that she would be here even when he returned. Perhaps when the Davke tore down the Day Court he would return, and be better for it. When she leaned closer he didn't pull away, only settled himself with a small, wry smile.
"I don't."
Velorca was tempted to leave it at that, but she was trying so hard to be friendly — and for once he didn't feel inclined to laugh at the effort. After a breath he continued, his voice svelte and lovely;
"I'm from Solterra — The Day Court, North-East from here."
Another moment passed and Lorca loosed a quiet, dark laugh;
"I'd suggest you visit but it's not the most welcoming Court... not like Dusk"
Velorca tried to make the word sound contemptuous, and succeeded a little — but not quite. He didn't want Cyrene stepping into Solterra with her lions eyes and dancers grace, her kindness like a target upon her slim back. The thought of the men that sneered and ogled at him looking at her that way...
"Did you come alone?"
The thought occurred to him slowly, the feeling that her confidence and kindness might be a result of someone else watching over her. She was strong on her own account, that much he saw, but she was beautiful, and of all men, Lorca knew what beautiful things attracted. The thought of a Dusk suitor for her was laughable — but not impossible.
Gods knew why he cared so much.
@Cyrene yeee!!
He'd come across many hard drinkers in his time amid the sheets, and Cyrene didn't look like one of them. The thought stole the hard-won light within his golden eyes, though they still studied the lion-eyed girl as she drank — slowly, sensually. Velorca tried and failed not to watch, his focus lingering on her beautiful mouth and the way her eyes closed in pleasure, lashes fluttering delicately against soft cheeks. He'd always been more inclined to spend his time with men, had found his desire lay with broad shoulders and strong chests, hard lines and handsome smiles.
But it had been so long since he'd had an emotion like that to himself it was likely he'd forgotten the difference between what he liked and what he received. Cyrene certainly didn't fit the description of his usual client, so perhaps that was why he found himself so inclined to continue speaking with her — or maybe it was the way her auburn skin caught the firelight, how her long lashed eyes went beyond kind and into territory Lorca wasn't sure he was quite ready to venture. She was too genuine, too... accepting?
His name on her lips was too innocent. Lorca looked away as she looked to the sky, staring instead at the far off bonfires even as he savoured the sound of it, felt almost inclined to ask her not to use it again... for though it was his name and had at one time been the only thing he'd owned, it had been tainted by too many lips, too many rough hands.
A place across the sea,
She mused, and Lorca allowed himself to consider that there were other countries, other worlds out there that hadn't seen the cruelty he had — or that had suffered their own cruelties.
And I plan to stay..
He shouldn't have felt anything for her yet, shouldn't have cared whether or not it would be the last he saw of her but... Lorca felt a small kernel of gladness flutter to life within his gold flaked ribs, that she would be here even when he returned. Perhaps when the Davke tore down the Day Court he would return, and be better for it. When she leaned closer he didn't pull away, only settled himself with a small, wry smile.
"I don't."
Velorca was tempted to leave it at that, but she was trying so hard to be friendly — and for once he didn't feel inclined to laugh at the effort. After a breath he continued, his voice svelte and lovely;
"I'm from Solterra — The Day Court, North-East from here."
Another moment passed and Lorca loosed a quiet, dark laugh;
"I'd suggest you visit but it's not the most welcoming Court... not like Dusk"
Velorca tried to make the word sound contemptuous, and succeeded a little — but not quite. He didn't want Cyrene stepping into Solterra with her lions eyes and dancers grace, her kindness like a target upon her slim back. The thought of the men that sneered and ogled at him looking at her that way...
"Did you come alone?"
The thought occurred to him slowly, the feeling that her confidence and kindness might be a result of someone else watching over her. She was strong on her own account, that much he saw, but she was beautiful, and of all men, Lorca knew what beautiful things attracted. The thought of a Dusk suitor for her was laughable — but not impossible.
Gods knew why he cared so much.
@Cyrene yeee!!
