Pierce
Barely audible, and yet it’s loud in Pierce’s ears. The refusal, the stubborn determination that tells him that this has been the worst news she’s received in a long time. And he aches for her – for that attachment he’d had, for what it’s done to her, for how he could care less about literally every other breathing person in this godsforsaken world. But for her? He hurts. And it’s such a strange feeling for the brawler that Pierce’s arms tighten again. “We can’t.” He says in quiet refusal – because they’d come to conquer, and when they left here they’d likely just move onto the next. And he'd be busy with that, taking over and being that tank he was always meant to be.
“I --” He doesn’t fill her voice with answers he wants, nor does he guide her with the purple haze that lingers in her so beautifully bright. Violent and charged, breaking like cracks forming seamlessly through ice, only found when too much weight holds. “I--” She says again and he knows her answer. She doesn’t have to say it aloud for the brawler to hear that she isn’t coming with him.
It's a shame, really. But she was made for here, as much as he can try to change and shift her into his Family’s light. And he wouldn’t feel right stealing her away from the world she’d known for his own selfish greed, especially when he wouldn’t be like this when they left – and who knows what she would be.
Beautiful, he’s sure. A tempest. A gorgeous chaos of tentacles and teeth that he wants to get cut on again and again.
She kisses him, desperately, and Pierce presses back into it with all the silent promises that he’d miss her, that he’d think of her when he’s eons away among the galaxies and nebulas of far away worlds. That she’d always have a piece of his thorny, onyx bound heart. His hands lift to cup her cheeks, to swipe his thumb away from the tears he’s sure will spill over, but he cannot promise her that he won’t leave her.
Because he has to. There’s no other way. And when he pulls away its with a gentle brush of his nose against hers, settled there forehead to forehead. “You’re my favorite. In all the worlds we’ve been to. You are the only one that’s caught me.” Perhaps the bit of pride could satisfy her in his absence. Or perhaps it makes it worse, sticking fingers into wounds he’d not meant to create. “I’ll miss you.”
“I --” He doesn’t fill her voice with answers he wants, nor does he guide her with the purple haze that lingers in her so beautifully bright. Violent and charged, breaking like cracks forming seamlessly through ice, only found when too much weight holds. “I--” She says again and he knows her answer. She doesn’t have to say it aloud for the brawler to hear that she isn’t coming with him.
It's a shame, really. But she was made for here, as much as he can try to change and shift her into his Family’s light. And he wouldn’t feel right stealing her away from the world she’d known for his own selfish greed, especially when he wouldn’t be like this when they left – and who knows what she would be.
Beautiful, he’s sure. A tempest. A gorgeous chaos of tentacles and teeth that he wants to get cut on again and again.
She kisses him, desperately, and Pierce presses back into it with all the silent promises that he’d miss her, that he’d think of her when he’s eons away among the galaxies and nebulas of far away worlds. That she’d always have a piece of his thorny, onyx bound heart. His hands lift to cup her cheeks, to swipe his thumb away from the tears he’s sure will spill over, but he cannot promise her that he won’t leave her.
Because he has to. There’s no other way. And when he pulls away its with a gentle brush of his nose against hers, settled there forehead to forehead. “You’re my favorite. In all the worlds we’ve been to. You are the only one that’s caught me.” Perhaps the bit of pride could satisfy her in his absence. Or perhaps it makes it worse, sticking fingers into wounds he’d not meant to create. “I’ll miss you.”
