Mirth danced in her eyes as she hit the opposite wall, torn away from him by his own shuddering fingers. “How precious,” she laughed, soft and whispered as it slipped from her mouth, tilting her head to watch him. Her smirk was cruel and curled on the very edges of her lips. “I was everything that night, wasn’t I, Loki? Behind my silver warrior’s mask, you came to me. You begged for me.”
She pushed off the wall and moved closer, her teeth on her lips as she tried so desperately to contain her glee. “You knelt before me, didn’t you, Loki?”
Silence suffocated him as her taunts pealed around him, her delight driving him to madness. Nearly blinded by his own volatile rage, her growled and backed away. Bested, her roared within his mind, his false hubris quaking and crumbling before her. The destroyer destroyed. Fuming he turned from her, pushing aside the huddled forms belonging to their spectators. He was the fallen gladiator, but he would not die in her arena.
She would pay.
Her arm bruised under his touch, body wrenched from it’s position to face the demon from the depths of the fifth circle. The growl on his lips set her smirk a blaze, her eyes falling on lips that had cursed such vile, beautiful things. She wanted him to bruise her more, finding a pleasure in this anger again, for the infinite, wretched time. One footstep closer as she curled her fingers around his collar, brushing her lips against his ear to hiss words he had spoken to her in solitude, behind a golden, desolate mask. “Your violence is beautiful, if only in myth.”
A snarl ripped through him, unchecked, red danced before his eyes. The bitch. How she had played him, the fool, how she had played on his emotions. And oh, how he had showered her with compliments, with grace not befitting such a lowly whore.
“You wretch,” he spat, pushing her away from him, so blinded in his rage to the stares and glares of their fellow students. “How dare you repeat words uttered by a supplicant to his goddess. You are common. You are nothing.”
Her fingers trembled at his laughter, hands clenching at her sides as she slid farther from his grasp, the corridor emptying as the mass of people so mindlessly roamed from room to room. So long had it been since she’d felt true anger, true wrath, and in that proximity, it festered under her skin. “And I am not the only deck you cut, I am not the only queen you’ve gathered. The joker, the jester, such war between your Aces. You would set me there and let me bear witness to the destruction you will wreak upon the universe.”
Her smirk curled.
Eyes grew icy, lips curled back in a growl. Footsteps were rapid, tyrannical in their force upon the earth as he tore through the students to grab her arm, spin her to face him fully. “What did you say to me, Zabini?”
It is the same loss of consciousness my mother bore. The loss of my mind to … another facet of myself? I hardly know how to describe it. But I should not bother you with such petty problems, for fear of marring your sphere of beauty.
Problems that weigh on such a lovely frame are never deemed petty in my eyes. No part of yourself will ever lack in beauty, in grace. Whatever path you are traveling down, you will learn to tread without a compass. Whatever battle you wage, you will certainly find yourself triumphant.
A glint I’m sure you must have mistaken. For if looks could kill you would have died many times that night. Don’t forget you also were very intoxicated, and shared a secret that I do not think you would like coming to light. I know your weakness, Gilderoy, and I will use it against you if I must.
Weakness? As it were, I was not aware I possessed an Achilles’ Heel. Please, enlighten me as to the source.
(Source: celeblovexo, via madeline-bagnold-deactivated201)
… I’ve reached that moment when words run dry. But what hope is there of resistance via mind over matter when mind is no longer mine?
Whose is it, then, if not your own? Surely one such as yourself would never lose dominion over something she holds in such high esteem.
Ayanna snarled at him, continuing her determined footsteps across the corridor. “You want to rip and mar, to break me with your violence, to lick and kiss my wounds as you gratify and bring justice to your hatred.” Her feet did not halt, eyes anywhere but on him as she boiled in her anger. “That is your way of shuffling?”
Laughter rang from him, around them. He watched her in her careful waltz of fury, perfectly timed, though she was not his partner of choice this eve. Given the chance, she would be rid of him. He would not comply just yet. “No,” he taunted, mirth dancing in his gaze. “That is how I cut the deck. To shuffle would be much more pleasurable, I assure you. You’d slide so perfectly beneath this joker.”
Crawling down the alley
On your hands and your knees.
I’m sure you’re not protected
For it’s plain to see.
The Diamond Dogs are poachers
And they hide behind trees,
Hunt you to the ground, they will.
Mannequins with kill appeal.
