[font=arial" size="1] There was a spark again, of anger or something else potent in his veins. Why did she make him feel this way? So easily, too. It became rather clear that most of his words had gone inside one of the female’s ears and out the other. It was partially frustrating, but at the same time he couldn’t blame the female for feeling the way that she did. Her life had quite literally been taken away from her for the most part. At the same time, so fucking what? That is what happened when one lived a life of nothing but crime. That is what happened when one built up so much bad shit underneath their feet that an entire organization wanted their capture, alive or dead. Her little outburst just now had most definitely proven one thing to the Mandalorian, she was ungrateful to the fact he had spared her life. The female’s sore ego was nothing that Demagol had any intentions of carefully bandaging and patting up to make her feel better. No, he spoke of reality, and she would either adhere to such willingly, or be forced to see. There were no half-ass maybes in Demagol’s books, just absolutes.
If she truly wanted to sleep soon, she should have kept her mouth shut.
It was the opposite now, a rude awakening. Demagol had patiently listened to everything the female had said, taking into account how emotionally traumatized she was at the moment. It was candid on the female’s part, but at the same time she misunderstood where her place was for the time being. She would not be met in kind. At first, it may have seemed like a caring motion as Demagol’s hand slipped over and brushed against the female’s cheek. He felt the tears, the anguish on her cheek that accompanied that tone in her voice. For a split second she had a piece of his heart in her hand, but that second quickly eclipsed when he realized how little she cared for her own life. It was maddening. That same hand snaked down from the female’s cheek and softly wrapped about that fragile throat of hers, worn fingers teasing the supple flesh with a grip not too taut. That changed in an instant. The grip tightened without warning and simultaneously Demagol turned his own body, slamming Rhailo back, up, and against the wall, pinning her there by her throat. It wasn’t a nice gesture in even the smallest of fractions and an expression of fiery anger was painted all over the Mandalorian’s countenance.
“Listen here, you spoiled little fucking whelp, and listen well.” The words were spoken through gritted teeth, almost bared. She had unleashed that inner ferocity of the Mandalorian again, but this time he not come for her body. No, he came for her being, her mind, everything that tethered the female psychologically. There was no frame of gentleness in either the grip of his hand nor the words that flowed out of his mouth. “I am done with your pathetic meandering, your scrutiny and ungratefulness.” There seemed to be no hesitation in what Demagol said, as if it was the human in him coming alive once more. There was something about the way he said what he did, so terrifyingly resolute. He slid the female up the wall with the same muscled arm that earlier kept her safely bound upon his body. The roles had changed, this wasn’t for her protection. At least it didn’t seem like it was. Fingers grasped and tightened around the majority of her neck, cutting off a majority of her windpipe, but just enough to where she wouldn’t slip into unconsciousness. She should have remembered that one thing she perceived about Demagol when he crashed down through her roof earlier that evening. He wasn’t fucking around.
“You care so little. I see right through you. Not because you are invisible to me, but because your agony is upon the very surface of your being.. and you haven’t the spine to hide it.” If bounds were being crossed, then good. This wasn’t just a scare factor, but an enlightenment, a revelation. Teeth were still bared, muscles were still flexing in both effort and anger. Oh how she moved him into the most passionate of ways. It was like a sickness for him. He wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know how to contain himself when the combustion built up inside of him. There was no outlet, there was no way to channel it. No way except for the one he was using now; her. “I pity you. But that is not the reason I let you live. It is not the reason I decided not to take you to the S'zari, and still am not.” It was true, all of it. He did pity her. Every bit of that tortured soul that slowly diminished on this shithole of a planet. He didn’t know of her past just as she didn’t know of his. They both had endured through different trials and carried different burdens. The weight of these burdens could not be understood by the other, only by the shoulders which bore them. Still, effort was given. “So do not wail your pompous cries at me like I don’t understand hardships. Even as you fight for breath underneath my grip, I bid you, hone your spirit, refine it.” Such words were probably lost on the female. He didn’t expect her to understand them. It didn’t matter to him how preposterous he sounded to her right now.
Those oceanic eyes stared at Rhailo through and through. They didn’t have a look of understanding in them, but rather harbored a piercing gaze. It was an unforgiving one. “If your life was so worthless to me then I would have ended it the very moment I breached your apartment. I would have dragged your lifeless corpse like baggage to those slavers and misogynists. But I didn’t.” There was frustration in his tone. It may have been hard to understand why he was so mad about the situation, just as there was no way he could understand why the female felt the way she did. “If I did not care about your life, I would squeeze the very last breaths of it from your throat as I speak now.” The grip tightened mercilessly, fingers forcibly enclosing around the female’s neck and windpipe. Air was cut off from her throat, rendering her temporarily unable to breathe. Another demonstration, as expected. Demagol could literally crush the life out of the female in which he held at the moment. “But..” The grip loosened slowly, as if giving the female something to cling on. Those little slivers of breathable space. Then he loosened up moreso, though making sure not to simply let her go in the mean time. There was purpose with this. There was meaning.
“Whatever meaning life holds, it makes us deaf to all reason.” He leaned inward, inches away from the female’s face. “But you will embrace life, because you are mine and I wish for you to have it.” His head shook, disbelief in the female’s wrongful, pathetic translation of his words.
“Delusional? Maybe I am fucking delusional. Maybe I’m fucking wasting my time with you. What I saw in you I believed to be potential. Now I see the broken image of a pouting, wannabe princess.” That gaze was unshaking, but Demagol’s hand lowered the female’s body down along the wall under her lower body was rested upon the bed in a seated position. The hand, though, remained. He didn’t want to break her spirit, to have to start from scratch. But if she gave him no other choice then he would. How she taunted him with her rebellious nature, her zesty personality. It wasn’t lost upon him, but made him more than volatile at the moment. “I do not care if you do not want to speak to me. But you will listen, and wake the fuck up.”
Was he out of control by his regards? Probably Why waste all of the time and words on a female who would probably dimly wash them away with hopelessness and unreasonable, bleak hypothesis. Part of him actually wanted to explain why he had that scar upon his face, the one that adorned a fair amount of his immediate visage. “You look at me as nothing but a filthy fucking bounty hunter, just as I looked at you as nothing but a filthy fucking criminal. By our own regards, we were probably both right. Were.” Why was he talking so much? Had she struck such a sensitive chord in him so easily? Why her? Why him? Why now? The Mandalorian seemed to be lost in a pit himself, eyes continuing to stare at the female even as his hand lost all of its tension and slid back down to his side. “When you wake up from that fucking dream you’re having you’ll realize that I am not lying with any of this, and could do you much more good than harm..” There was a momentary grimace, not because he regretted anything he said, but because there was always the possibility his words fell on deaf ears. He wanted to believe he didn’t waste all of that air in his lungs speaking to a brick wall.
“Rhailo Destros.. you belong to me, not the S'zari.”
If she truly wanted to sleep soon, she should have kept her mouth shut.
It was the opposite now, a rude awakening. Demagol had patiently listened to everything the female had said, taking into account how emotionally traumatized she was at the moment. It was candid on the female’s part, but at the same time she misunderstood where her place was for the time being. She would not be met in kind. At first, it may have seemed like a caring motion as Demagol’s hand slipped over and brushed against the female’s cheek. He felt the tears, the anguish on her cheek that accompanied that tone in her voice. For a split second she had a piece of his heart in her hand, but that second quickly eclipsed when he realized how little she cared for her own life. It was maddening. That same hand snaked down from the female’s cheek and softly wrapped about that fragile throat of hers, worn fingers teasing the supple flesh with a grip not too taut. That changed in an instant. The grip tightened without warning and simultaneously Demagol turned his own body, slamming Rhailo back, up, and against the wall, pinning her there by her throat. It wasn’t a nice gesture in even the smallest of fractions and an expression of fiery anger was painted all over the Mandalorian’s countenance.
“Listen here, you spoiled little fucking whelp, and listen well.” The words were spoken through gritted teeth, almost bared. She had unleashed that inner ferocity of the Mandalorian again, but this time he not come for her body. No, he came for her being, her mind, everything that tethered the female psychologically. There was no frame of gentleness in either the grip of his hand nor the words that flowed out of his mouth. “I am done with your pathetic meandering, your scrutiny and ungratefulness.” There seemed to be no hesitation in what Demagol said, as if it was the human in him coming alive once more. There was something about the way he said what he did, so terrifyingly resolute. He slid the female up the wall with the same muscled arm that earlier kept her safely bound upon his body. The roles had changed, this wasn’t for her protection. At least it didn’t seem like it was. Fingers grasped and tightened around the majority of her neck, cutting off a majority of her windpipe, but just enough to where she wouldn’t slip into unconsciousness. She should have remembered that one thing she perceived about Demagol when he crashed down through her roof earlier that evening. He wasn’t fucking around.
“You care so little. I see right through you. Not because you are invisible to me, but because your agony is upon the very surface of your being.. and you haven’t the spine to hide it.” If bounds were being crossed, then good. This wasn’t just a scare factor, but an enlightenment, a revelation. Teeth were still bared, muscles were still flexing in both effort and anger. Oh how she moved him into the most passionate of ways. It was like a sickness for him. He wasn’t used to it. He didn’t know how to contain himself when the combustion built up inside of him. There was no outlet, there was no way to channel it. No way except for the one he was using now; her. “I pity you. But that is not the reason I let you live. It is not the reason I decided not to take you to the S'zari, and still am not.” It was true, all of it. He did pity her. Every bit of that tortured soul that slowly diminished on this shithole of a planet. He didn’t know of her past just as she didn’t know of his. They both had endured through different trials and carried different burdens. The weight of these burdens could not be understood by the other, only by the shoulders which bore them. Still, effort was given. “So do not wail your pompous cries at me like I don’t understand hardships. Even as you fight for breath underneath my grip, I bid you, hone your spirit, refine it.” Such words were probably lost on the female. He didn’t expect her to understand them. It didn’t matter to him how preposterous he sounded to her right now.
Those oceanic eyes stared at Rhailo through and through. They didn’t have a look of understanding in them, but rather harbored a piercing gaze. It was an unforgiving one. “If your life was so worthless to me then I would have ended it the very moment I breached your apartment. I would have dragged your lifeless corpse like baggage to those slavers and misogynists. But I didn’t.” There was frustration in his tone. It may have been hard to understand why he was so mad about the situation, just as there was no way he could understand why the female felt the way she did. “If I did not care about your life, I would squeeze the very last breaths of it from your throat as I speak now.” The grip tightened mercilessly, fingers forcibly enclosing around the female’s neck and windpipe. Air was cut off from her throat, rendering her temporarily unable to breathe. Another demonstration, as expected. Demagol could literally crush the life out of the female in which he held at the moment. “But..” The grip loosened slowly, as if giving the female something to cling on. Those little slivers of breathable space. Then he loosened up moreso, though making sure not to simply let her go in the mean time. There was purpose with this. There was meaning.
“Whatever meaning life holds, it makes us deaf to all reason.” He leaned inward, inches away from the female’s face. “But you will embrace life, because you are mine and I wish for you to have it.” His head shook, disbelief in the female’s wrongful, pathetic translation of his words.
“Delusional? Maybe I am fucking delusional. Maybe I’m fucking wasting my time with you. What I saw in you I believed to be potential. Now I see the broken image of a pouting, wannabe princess.” That gaze was unshaking, but Demagol’s hand lowered the female’s body down along the wall under her lower body was rested upon the bed in a seated position. The hand, though, remained. He didn’t want to break her spirit, to have to start from scratch. But if she gave him no other choice then he would. How she taunted him with her rebellious nature, her zesty personality. It wasn’t lost upon him, but made him more than volatile at the moment. “I do not care if you do not want to speak to me. But you will listen, and wake the fuck up.”
Was he out of control by his regards? Probably Why waste all of the time and words on a female who would probably dimly wash them away with hopelessness and unreasonable, bleak hypothesis. Part of him actually wanted to explain why he had that scar upon his face, the one that adorned a fair amount of his immediate visage. “You look at me as nothing but a filthy fucking bounty hunter, just as I looked at you as nothing but a filthy fucking criminal. By our own regards, we were probably both right. Were.” Why was he talking so much? Had she struck such a sensitive chord in him so easily? Why her? Why him? Why now? The Mandalorian seemed to be lost in a pit himself, eyes continuing to stare at the female even as his hand lost all of its tension and slid back down to his side. “When you wake up from that fucking dream you’re having you’ll realize that I am not lying with any of this, and could do you much more good than harm..” There was a momentary grimace, not because he regretted anything he said, but because there was always the possibility his words fell on deaf ears. He wanted to believe he didn’t waste all of that air in his lungs speaking to a brick wall.
“Rhailo Destros.. you belong to me, not the S'zari.”
Forever?
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
Oh, my darling,
If only you could see what war has done to me.
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Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:27 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:30 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:38 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:40 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:41 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:42 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:44 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:46 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:47 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:49 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:50 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:52 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:52 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:54 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:55 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:56 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 04:58 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 04:59 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:00 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:01 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:02 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:03 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:04 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:05 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:07 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:07 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:09 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:10 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:13 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:13 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by deific - 11-03-2015, 05:15 AM
RE: Tread Lightly [closed] - by Kat - 11-03-2015, 05:17 AM