VARUS
“Mmm…” A low rumble leaves him, a shrug of his shoulders as she comments about going insane mentally. Luckily, Varus doesn’t recall that. Either he’d shut down too far to think or he’d blocked it all out. Either way, perhaps that’s where his luck had gone — not having to deal with his own mind over the centuries he’s been gone, wondering why he can’t move, why nothing has changed other than a quiet, dreadful, stormy black. “Suppose I did.”
A feigned look is shot his way in response to his surprise, a hum of a laugh leaving him as he hears her purring tones, as her voice lingers and pulls on his name and he smirks lightly in response to it. He does see the way her smile stiffens for the moment, but she doesn’t elaborate fully, and he doesn’t know her well enough to ask. So instead, he focuses on the way it shifts back to something playful, something cat like and coy.
His eyes dip to the silvery scars along her neck and his head dips a fraction in understanding as well as curiosity as she continues, her half lidded gaze, her shudder that runs down his spine, and he realizes it’s been quite some time since he’s had a bite from someone with blood (Wessex, not counting, given that it was a fluid reup despite how fucking good it felt). She promises something else, the electricity that sparks along her skin and Varus finds himself leaning forward on his one elbow, intrigued and curious despite it all.
“How interesting.” He hums, regarding her a bit more interested now, wondering what it might be like to have that spark of electricity sore through his veins paired with a bite, let alone just on its own. His lips curl in a playful smile, and he folds the book and tucks it away. “Well, I haven’t felt much at all in the last few centuries. What’s it cost?” He asks, head cocking to the side.
A feigned look is shot his way in response to his surprise, a hum of a laugh leaving him as he hears her purring tones, as her voice lingers and pulls on his name and he smirks lightly in response to it. He does see the way her smile stiffens for the moment, but she doesn’t elaborate fully, and he doesn’t know her well enough to ask. So instead, he focuses on the way it shifts back to something playful, something cat like and coy.
His eyes dip to the silvery scars along her neck and his head dips a fraction in understanding as well as curiosity as she continues, her half lidded gaze, her shudder that runs down his spine, and he realizes it’s been quite some time since he’s had a bite from someone with blood (Wessex, not counting, given that it was a fluid reup despite how fucking good it felt). She promises something else, the electricity that sparks along her skin and Varus finds himself leaning forward on his one elbow, intrigued and curious despite it all.
“How interesting.” He hums, regarding her a bit more interested now, wondering what it might be like to have that spark of electricity sore through his veins paired with a bite, let alone just on its own. His lips curl in a playful smile, and he folds the book and tucks it away. “Well, I haven’t felt much at all in the last few centuries. What’s it cost?” He asks, head cocking to the side.
stories without a few let downs are boring when told
perfection and poems are a lie when it all unfolds
perfection and poems are a lie when it all unfolds
