Predatory and scientific, he observed with a keen eye as she turned, the clothing she wore veiling the details he sought. Yet, the subtle articulation of her body beneath the textiles provided enough answers for the moment, answering many of his unspoken questions. With a weary indifference, he dismissed her question, instead reaching for her upturned chin and enfolding his palm around the haughty jut of bone.
"To their eyes, you will be viewed as beautiful, but not immediately within their reach. They will want you without knowing quite how to have you," he advised, his tone calculated and detached. His touch, possessive in its claim, conveyed a predatory understanding of mortal desire. The intricacies of human longing were a tapestry he had studied, and now, in the guise of humanity, he wielded that knowledge with a certain cruel finesse. "Any sort of touch for these creatures, be it sexual or violent," or both "- serves only to reinforce just how isolated they truly are when the act is finished."
Even with such an intimate touch of his hand on her face, she existed outside of him—a presence both tantalizing and maddening. The yearning to consume her, to bridge the widening gap and assimilate her essence, intensified. Such was humanity, after all.
In the silent space between them, the predator's hunger stirred, driven by the primitive instincts newly awakened by mortal experience. Instincts that did not seek his permission before flaring their keenness in his veins. The veneer of preparedness wavered in the face of the raw, unfiltered emotions that surged within, marking the beginning of a journey into the depths of human weakness.
"To their eyes, you will be viewed as beautiful, but not immediately within their reach. They will want you without knowing quite how to have you," he advised, his tone calculated and detached. His touch, possessive in its claim, conveyed a predatory understanding of mortal desire. The intricacies of human longing were a tapestry he had studied, and now, in the guise of humanity, he wielded that knowledge with a certain cruel finesse. "Any sort of touch for these creatures, be it sexual or violent," or both "- serves only to reinforce just how isolated they truly are when the act is finished."
Even with such an intimate touch of his hand on her face, she existed outside of him—a presence both tantalizing and maddening. The yearning to consume her, to bridge the widening gap and assimilate her essence, intensified. Such was humanity, after all.
In the silent space between them, the predator's hunger stirred, driven by the primitive instincts newly awakened by mortal experience. Instincts that did not seek his permission before flaring their keenness in his veins. The veneer of preparedness wavered in the face of the raw, unfiltered emotions that surged within, marking the beginning of a journey into the depths of human weakness.
The high indifference some call fate
But we had names more intimate
But we had names more intimate
