a faint , helpless little squeak of surprise squeezes out of his pale throat as he's tugged forth so unceremoniously , the fair arch of his brows descending into a confused frown . he's so ... rough . he's so mean ! just who does he think he is ? grabbing him like that - with those ... large , calloused hands . grasping his jaw to hold him still , steady , like a scrawny rag doll . nobody but the matrons and high priestesses have ever touched him like that , certainly not a lowly drow warrior of ... questionable heritage .
who is he ? awe-struck eyes flutter wide with a vast array of emotions , most which he's not willing to acknowledge , the vibrant swirl of colors glittering inside , like crushed rubies caught beneath the white dollop of his long eyelashes .
with a plush pout protruding , he tries to mumble something , but only sounds come out , fully incoherent ; it sounds a lot like vague grumbling and shallow protests . his cheeks redden from pressure , or - he'll claim it's from his brutish fingers , and the way they've squeezed him too tight , and he'll be in a grave twice over before admitting it's anything other than that .
hold still ?? hold still ??? he will not hold - oh ! oh !! he's being forcibly held still now , is he ? he looks so miffed , sullen like a child as his large fingers stuff the delicate petals into the dewy insides of his mouth . β nhm ngh ... β he grumbles , a bead of blood catching his lip as his reddened cheeks puff out and he bites down hard , almost begrudgingly so , as the drow lets go - to prove some kind of point he's too sure what it is . he's chewing without breaking eye contact , and even though his taste buds and his tongue are none too pleased , he decides his mouth could fill with blood and he would still not stop now .
