Fight or Flight ? [Flight and Trace]
Sept 1, 2010 21:37:28 GMT -5
Post by sadniss everdeen on Sept 1, 2010 21:37:28 GMT -5
For a moment I stare, watching him. I can tell he's serious, and am not entirely sure if it's a ploy to see if bluffing or a desperate attempt at respect. I'm not entirely sure why'd he'd need the second though, maybe he thinks he has a chance? I've seen the way he was eyeing me, it happens alot. It's when they want to rip off my clothes and take me right there on the spot. When he says that he is the monster, I scoff slightly and my lips turn up into a cruel sneer.
"We're two seperate entities. Look up my file one day, it'll say 'schizophrenic, highly dangerous, psychotic'. While all that may be true, I refuse to stoop down to it's level." Then I eye his finger, opening my mouth so that the tip of my tongue brushes against his first knuckle. Salty and the decidedly bitter taste I associate with boys, I study him through half-lidded eyes.
"Sorry to disappoint;" I murmur, drawing the appendage back into my mouth (wow, that sounded wrong). "But my skills require all my fingers intact. Perhaps we could come to a... compromise?"
The rage has decided to subdue itself, though the bloodlust is still beating strong in the hollow of my throat. With a curious and somewhat seductive gaze, I offer my wrist to him; palm upwards and fingers uncurled lightly. "Drink." While I don't particularily want to loose a chunk of flesh to him, blood I don't mind. I've been bitten more times than I can count. The strange part in the back of my throat (the dry palate that stokes the thirst, that normal people don't have) is being agitated roughly, like the rasp of a cat's tongue.
My head tilts up in inquiry, raising a slight eyebrow above one golden orb. "Or do you not want to?"
"We're two seperate entities. Look up my file one day, it'll say 'schizophrenic, highly dangerous, psychotic'. While all that may be true, I refuse to stoop down to it's level." Then I eye his finger, opening my mouth so that the tip of my tongue brushes against his first knuckle. Salty and the decidedly bitter taste I associate with boys, I study him through half-lidded eyes.
"Sorry to disappoint;" I murmur, drawing the appendage back into my mouth (wow, that sounded wrong). "But my skills require all my fingers intact. Perhaps we could come to a... compromise?"
The rage has decided to subdue itself, though the bloodlust is still beating strong in the hollow of my throat. With a curious and somewhat seductive gaze, I offer my wrist to him; palm upwards and fingers uncurled lightly. "Drink." While I don't particularily want to loose a chunk of flesh to him, blood I don't mind. I've been bitten more times than I can count. The strange part in the back of my throat (the dry palate that stokes the thirst, that normal people don't have) is being agitated roughly, like the rasp of a cat's tongue.
My head tilts up in inquiry, raising a slight eyebrow above one golden orb. "Or do you not want to?"