murilega:
“i don’t want you to feel. i really don’t care what you do.” she looks up, eyes entirely demonic, feline, reflective in the half light. her hands shake. she shouldn’t have got her hopes up. life loves to step on her- she’s been stepped upon for as long as she can remember (shaking hands, a matchbox, scraping and flame, her right hand twisted and raw but she wasn’t dying, not just yet, other shouts- were there other people here? add murder to her list of sins- and smoke growing too strong for her to breath but she’d be free now, right?). she never expected that to change with her species.
but she thought that maybe, just maybe the universe had given her something back. her best- her only friend. but sol wasn’t hawthorne. well, she supposes that maura isn’t gwendolyn either, so she’s a hypocrite.
another tick on the list of her sins.
“i want-” what does she want? she wants thorne back, but she doesn’t necessarily want sol gone. she just wants him to stop hurting her every time he opens his mouth.
“i want to rip up your face beyond recognition. i want you to scream til your voice breaks. so you’ll stop using his face and his voice when they don’t belong to you.” her mouth twists into a snarl, one long tooth bared, white and shining. she moves, getting up, but it’s not that, really. she’s crouching, preparing to pounce. she’s a predator on the hunt.
“and then,” she grins, “you can run naked through hell for all i care.”
sol carefully, carefully doesn’t flinch ; doesn’t look away. for all ra’s role as a succubus, she’s more ‘seductive’ when she’s threatening one than any other time. he wonders if she’s glamoured, scans her for the heat shimmer he expects to see on her hands and eyes afore his own blood. if there is one, it’s more fire than anything, he thinks, and suppresses a shiver at that more than any of her words.
there’s no point in stopping her, anyways. he couldn’t if he tried, has never been the strongest of the choir, and all he has at his beck and call is sarcasm and the fire magic that hurts him more than its victim even when they aren’t a self-proclaimed arsonist.
-- and more to the point, he knew what he was asking for.
“...go ahead, then. the suspense hurts more than you possibly could, demon.”
