In Lieu of Formalities

"I understand." Words spoken on impulse, a reaction to preserve what little one had in the face of a force far greater than one could imagine. No one survived the Launceleyn family's methods with their mind as intact as Neron's was without learning when to push and pull and turn belly up. That he had even pushed her buttons as much as he had was likely purposeful, to some extent, and that her reaction (which should have also been foreseeable) elicited such a look of disgust on his face was...intriguing. What had he imagined would happen? He knew this game, and yet here he was so disgusted with the outcome, as if something more pleasant might have come from it. Pleasure always followed pain. It was the Launceleyn way. And with his submission, he had earned that much. The nail holding his chin in place lightened its hold, gliding gently across the skin of his jaw, leaving a trail to his head by which her hand followed. Softly her fingers combed through his hair, setting back in it's perfectly tousled state, nails gently scraping against his scalp. "Quite a look for one who had so mastered our ways. You know why I am this way, you know it pains me to hurt those most dear to me, you know exactly how to elicit the reactions you'd like to see - so why do you tempt that which displeases you, Neron?" she asked, voice but a whisper, her gaze softening ever so slightly. zariah If it is danger you seek, come on over. I covet tranquility but beget the tempest storm.