Neron
It is like a dance, the way Neron steps back and the way Remi prowls in his wake. Only when he feels a crate press against his spine and shoulders does he realise that there's nowhere left to go, steel blue meeting seafoam green. And the Hailstorm knows that to look away right now would be to submit and to die, from one predator to another.
He doesn't feel the talon against his wrist but his body registers it nonetheless, and Neron swallows hard. His lips are still stained red, he has no idea where the vial is that Remi is supposed to use to catch the fluid, and he still sort of wants to kiss the Lullaby, or bite him again, or ask him to please not rip out his throat.
"Any time you like," he all but purrs under his breath, referring to the fluid dripping from his fingers. Probably.
He doesn't feel the talon against his wrist but his body registers it nonetheless, and Neron swallows hard. His lips are still stained red, he has no idea where the vial is that Remi is supposed to use to catch the fluid, and he still sort of wants to kiss the Lullaby, or bite him again, or ask him to please not rip out his throat.
"Any time you like," he all but purrs under his breath, referring to the fluid dripping from his fingers. Probably.
i am mine
before i am ever anyone else’s
before i am ever anyone else’s
