( @warpathpanther )
“Did you think I’d forget about you?”
Her voice broke through black, ripping away the coal coatings once surrounding his structure. She imposed brilliance upon his body through speech alone, entertaining the notion that nihilism wasn’t his forte. Within her pallid palms remains something silver, heavily adorned in a metallic make; but she hides its shape from her savior, hoping to expose the rest upon her arrival. The gift is hidden with her pockets and her fingers wrap around the frame to prevent protrusion. She stares at him with absolute adoration, although her expression is barren of any blessings.
Fangs are revealed, but briefly; such pale points are meant to protect. Even now, her guard is up; ready to strike upon those reckless enough to attempt a rumble. But her main focus wasn’t to fight, nor even arouse antipathy from the very victim before her. Instead, she sought to appreciate his presence and to explain the impact he made upon her person since the day they met. She has the image painted perfectly; a red recollection of his arrival and anathema against her offender. For once, she felt helpless and all the blood that left her becoming was transformed into seas of certainty, claiming him as her commander; the one who would teach her how to handle such hatred.
He did more than he could ever know; he taught someone so simple to survive within a new world of wickedness and woe. For that, she was grateful. A portion of her blushing borders inclined, exposing vivacious venom from beneath her breath. She slithers her hand from beyond clothed barriers and reveals to him her blessing in the form of brutality.
A hand extends, greedily grabbing away at his own palm, leading it towards her own entirety. But such sentiments were not out of sarcasm.
“It’s like I’m marryin’ you or somethin’. Disgusting, I know.”
She slides the armor around his appendages, gracing his knuckles with the weaponry of knights. His hand his held for a moment longer as she admires the work that went into making this malice ridden machine. She loves the way it accents his own animosity, reflecting revenge through a beautiful bestowing. A smile of pride is visible upon her features; he looks nice with brass knuckles, and she was certain the carnage that came after would be becoming too.
“Perfect fit, dick head.”
A chuckle escapes her and she rides upon the euphoria felt by such flattery. For once, she gives him a genuine grin, imposing her affections with little limitations. She will appreciate anyone that shows interest in her life, whether he wants to admit it or not. He is crowned the savior of her sanctuaries and for that reason alone, she will keep him close.
“Merry Christmas.”
