[P] silence like a cancer grows

[Anonymous]

A N O N Y M O U S The skinny beast rolls his shoulder, and as he announces the change of mind he swats his own flanks hard with his tail. He cocks a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up in a barely conceived smile. Emerald eyes meet the turquoise and gold ones. "Don't flatter yourself." He says, taunting. And yet, here you are flattering me. How comical. Only trying to decide what to do with him? 'I am nobody's prey or plaything.' He wants to say, but doesn't, because the wraith continues to speak. And Anonymous was ever the good listener. The energy between them seems to rise - barely noticeable at first, growing with each word that Only speaks, each word that Anonymous doesn't. Would he have licked the blood off his knives? Perhaps. If the moment called to him, but it hadn't. Not this time. Still the thought rings in his head: You don't know this creature. Protect yourself, your identity at all costs. And now Only confesses he wants to spend time with Anonymous. His onyx wings extend smoothly, silently from his body, feathers ruffling as he stretches them, then tucks them back in loosely. The flattery (however suspicious, that thought nagged in his mind) made his blood pound again. He feels it coursing through him, making his nerves tingle with excitement. Is he really so susceptible to flattery? Sure, when he hasn't had a kind word of any sort said to him in so long. Plus there's something about this Only that intrigues him. Still his eyes sparkle, and his ears prick forward, but otherwise he remains still and quiet. Only exposes his throat, and Anonymous sees that he is clearly not the first one to wound the bastard. The scar across the black's throat is not the only one marring his hide. Numerous wounds scar him, even more than Anonymous has hidden over his body. Anon's scars have healed well, having been treated well, and they are faint across his body. "You smell like piñion fires." Not despising the company he keeps? A curious statement. Clearly there's more to this Only than meets the eye. It occurs to me that the one that speaks now is so different than the pathetic wraith that first called out to the assassin hidden among the trees. There's more to him than meets the eye. Something in Anonymous clicks, changes. He takes a step closer, then another, and another. He's close to Only now, so close, and whatever personal bubbles either of them might have had have been lapped over each other. He breathes in the scent of the skinny male. It's pungent, like bloody roses. He extends a wing up and over Only's back, circling him, ending where he's standing at a 45 degree angle from the bleeding head. Anonymous lets a sexy grin spread on his face, and he murmurs. "You would never detest me, not with the.. entertainment.. I could provide you." He wonders, will Only take his words at face value? Or catch the double entendre delivered on a silver platter. @Only

image