Approval, she always forgot how much she craved it until it was laid out in front her once again. Forgot how easily she’d buckle, and lean into the feeling. She’d fought for it for years until she realized it was a lot more fun not to care. Ivon always gave it to her willingly, painting his reverence in poetry and in the fierceness of his embrace. His pretty words make her feel warm as she fists her hands in his shirt, accepted for a moment. The moment is gone and then she’s back to pushing her shoulders back, all for perfect appearances even in a bloody disarray. The sound of trunk opening gets her in motion, moving to pick up her crystal which had fallen down sometime during the fiasco and slip off her heels.
As she walked past the back of the vehicle, she grabbed hold of a scrap of fabric in the trunk and tugged, uncaring of whose it was. Pushing the straps of her dress off her shoulders, she slipped out of the fabric easily, replacing it with the shirt that was now undoubtedly not her own. Kicking it from her ankles, she swiped it up from the ground and went to open the door. Yer there he was already reaching for the handle, ever so chivalrous as he opened it for her. If it had been anyone else she would’ve snorted but it was him so she tugged the sides of the over sized shirt out and gave a small curtsy.
Her eyes went fleetingly to the car where the man would rot until someone stumbled upon his body in a drunken stupor, but then the door was shut and she let her mind go back to the road ahead. That would be her last thought of it, until the thoughts became too much and she’d have no choice but to choke on them. All the faces, the torn flesh, and the blood caked underneath her fingernails. She is a result, a used to be tale of a human now gloriously half-destroyed. The sound of his door opened dragged her from the murky waters of her own thoughts and she sighed audibly, sinking down into the leather as she worried over the tip of her finger with her teeth. They sit in silence, breath mingling in the small space as she thinks about where in the world do they go now. They could ride forth, aimlessly down the highway or they could go back. Instead of attempting to make a decision, she looks to Ivon tucking her hands underneath her chin. He doesn’t meet her gaze, determinedly focused on what’s in front of him as he fidgeted with the keys.
Ivon looks wrecked, in the best possible way he can. Just now tumbling down from an alcohol high on to something else that has his hands grasping at the steering wheel, a tightness in his jaw. Desire is flickering in his eyes, or maybe longing it doesn’t matter to her. It’s exactly what she wants, even if it selfishly so. She wants him here with her, right there trudging bowels of her indiscretions. From the first time she’d met him, she’d wanted to lay ruin to him. Bring him close to the edge to take her hand and make him drown with her. But, staring at him now, she wonders if she even has to. She has a feeling that he’d go willingly if she ever asked, but she won’t. Not tonight.
"Look at me." She whispers, reaching over to ghost her fingers over his profile, never quite touching but making the intention clear. When he turns, finally, she catches the tip of his chin between her fingers and softens. Shadows darken his features, they make him sharp at the edges. They make him beautiful. He’s perfect too, she notes. A fact never lost on her but unsaid nonetheless. She has no poetry, only the dance of her fingers across skin and blunt words said in dark silence. But tonight is different somehow, the words flow freely this time, an echo of his earlier words but no less powerful.
”You’re perfect.” Her eyes shine with sincerity, and she hopes that he understands that it isn’t something to take lightly. But then the moment passes, and she let her fingers drop from his face. Her hands instinctively moving to seek out the pack of cigarettes tucked away in the glove box next. She lets it hang from her lips unlit as she reclines the seat slightly. She cups her hands over the butt and it comes alight within seconds, the flame’s glow tangled with the purple hue of magic. The action coming easy like the natural fall and rise of her chest. Her abilities are especially powerful in these first few days after a kill, potential crackling over quiet fingertips. Sated and focused, it’s her favorite time. She figures that the feeling she gets is probably the closest thing she’ll feel to invincibility. So, she exhales, sinking into the seat, watching the smoke billow in the darkness. The car comes to life, and she feels it when the first person takes a step outside the threshold. Her influence is gone entirely by then, the mountain boot stamping out the last of her hold written in the dirt.
Ivon’s gaze makes her skin prickle, she can feel the heat of it even when her eyes are trained forward. She wonders if he’s searching for answers in her profile, her expression veiled in an indifference. An odd picture, her in an over sized t-shirt with blood dried against her skin and a cigarette hanging from her lips. She wonders what he sees, startled by the realization that she does in fact care. It makes her feel unlike herself, worrying over whether he can see past what she’s created to what’s real. She stamps down those thoughts, lips curling upwards as she plucks the cigarette from her lips. Choosing that moment to meet his gaze, smiling in an almost whimsical way,
"Well, are you going to drive or are you just going to stare?"
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