( a bold leap to make, she thinks — there's nothing so exceptional about her as she is, as bare and disrobed of power as she's so deliberately made herself seem. she tilts her head, bird-like in its observation, an unspoken question: why? curious, rather than taking to flaying herself with the same blade of self-deprecation she keeps on her person at all times — sheathed, for now, despite her own opinions of her worth.
she huffs a breath, a sardonic laugh that's more air than sound. he's right, of course — it curdles her insides, even now, to find she might fall short of impossible expectations. still. she isn't a fool about to go traipsing into the trap he's set out for her, luring her with bait, by confirming it — never mind her resentment of the idea, and how erik's need to take stock of it presses on an old bruise, memories of a girl so eager to please she hadn't noticed the leash around her throat until it was too late.
a delicate brow arches on her forehead, instead, as she straightens in the water, crystalline water rippling down the swell of her small breasts. clinging there like little sparkling diamonds, richer than an orphan girl should have any right to be. with idle hands, she sweeps the inky black spill of her hair into her twirling hands, pinning its damp ends to the back of her skull. all the better to watch him as she keeps her bold stare snared to his, wondering, quietly, if they're two people caught by one another — or two unknown, predatory animals assessing the other in their territory. )
I don't think you're the kind of man who likes to listen, anyway. Am I wrong?
no subject
( a bold leap to make, she thinks — there's nothing so exceptional about her as she is, as bare and disrobed of power as she's so deliberately made herself seem. she tilts her head, bird-like in its observation, an unspoken question: why? curious, rather than taking to flaying herself with the same blade of self-deprecation she keeps on her person at all times — sheathed, for now, despite her own opinions of her worth.
she huffs a breath, a sardonic laugh that's more air than sound. he's right, of course — it curdles her insides, even now, to find she might fall short of impossible expectations. still. she isn't a fool about to go traipsing into the trap he's set out for her, luring her with bait, by confirming it — never mind her resentment of the idea, and how erik's need to take stock of it presses on an old bruise, memories of a girl so eager to please she hadn't noticed the leash around her throat until it was too late.
a delicate brow arches on her forehead, instead, as she straightens in the water, crystalline water rippling down the swell of her small breasts. clinging there like little sparkling diamonds, richer than an orphan girl should have any right to be. with idle hands, she sweeps the inky black spill of her hair into her twirling hands, pinning its damp ends to the back of her skull. all the better to watch him as she keeps her bold stare snared to his, wondering, quietly, if they're two people caught by one another — or two unknown, predatory animals assessing the other in their territory. )
I don't think you're the kind of man who likes to listen, anyway. Am I wrong?