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quarrelsomecatThere are still blood stains drying on Tybalt's shirt when they get back from the battle. Remnants of the fight visible in a contrast to the invisible lingering touch of the battlefield that always left his blood racing, his reflexes quick and his adrenaline coursing. Whenever the battle ended he was left with the same feeling. Edgy and riled up, like he could keep going for days. His sword was clean now. He never left the battle field without wiping the blood off her blade, but the handle was still warm against his hand, even after he had tucked her away back into the sheath at his side.
He did not enjoy the killing. It was a side effect to the battle, but the fighting itself was a rush like no other and sometimes he thought he lived for it. It certainly seemed to be one of the only things he did well. Put a sword in his hands, or a pair of fists against his own, and you would not find a happier cat. He had followed Bran after the battle, like he nearly always did, an extra something to his step that wasn't a spring so much as an at-the-ready. the edge of the battle leaving him ready to spin and fight at the slightest potential, well after the battle was dead and done.
He did not enjoy the killing. It was a side effect to the battle, but the fighting itself was a rush like no other and sometimes he thought he lived for it. It certainly seemed to be one of the only things he did well. Put a sword in his hands, or a pair of fists against his own, and you would not find a happier cat. He had followed Bran after the battle, like he nearly always did, an extra something to his step that wasn't a spring so much as an at-the-ready. the edge of the battle leaving him ready to spin and fight at the slightest potential, well after the battle was dead and done.
pfft <3 /purples on
Date: 2012-11-07 06:50 pm (UTC)They fit and flowed against each other, dancing to the drum of racing heartbeats, moans and sighs making secret music filled with ancient mystery and wonder.
Why did Bran need the fire? It wasn't something he thought about, instinctively shying away from what could possibly destroy everything they had.
The unspoken words that were not so much waiting to be revealed as they were memories too vague to properly recall anymore. A lost opportunity turned to something irresistible but ever so fragile. They were Icaruses flying ever so close to the sun, and that is where he needed to be.
He was fettered to the world by his search and longing for something they would never call theirs.
Love.