[M] oh, you will come

André Fontainé · 05-24-2012, 04:58 PM

[html]

you don’t want to
wake the dragon, do you?

Nah, Andre will leave in a couple posts without fighting I think. ^^ If Jac makes a move to attack him or call for the rest of the clan, he'll go, or feels like he's said everything he wants to. xD

André had been a good man once, or at least he’d tried to be as good a man as he could be with the frame of his life so rotten and broken as it was. He tried to please his father from the beginning, but the first seeds of pain had been planted when the others harassed him for his puny size. Those seeds had become shoots of cruelty, and his nastiness had only grown to defend himself from the world.

The woman whose hair was in his fist now had almost changed him. He had no way of knowing that her life’s circumstances had been just as bad, because she’d never talked about it; she’d been a pillar for the teenager he’d been, someone sweet to come to, someone to channel his rage into protection and strength. He remembered making love to her for the first time, soothing her at the first signs of fear or discomfort, but summoning the memory now only left a warped image.

He’d made his vows the day the crimson dragon had been inked into his flesh. And although seeing her again had shaken him, he was not going to go back on his bloody promises. The dragon had awoken.

Her ribs gave way under his dark fist, and her cry of pain would only be the beginning. He wanted more, wanted to assert himself as the strong one, the dominant one, the one who would never be hurt ever again. He twisted her dark hair more, the hand that had been slamming into her choosing instead to rest possessively on her thigh; even through the dress, he knew the scar was there.

But then there was a snarl, and André jerked his head up, claws embedding in the fabric of her dress. His lips wrinkled to show needle-sharp fangs, but he released the woman, nearly shoving her to the ground as the caramel-colored hybrid stormed forward. He took the time to look his opposition over, however, noting that—while both restricted in size by their coyote blood—he was stringier, a runner and hunter, but no warrior. Reddish-pumpkin eyes glared from underneath a shock of orange hair.

He blinked as the girl was ordered to flee, and he laughed. You think you can run and hide, you stupid whore? he screamed after her. I found you once, I’ll find you again! His eyes burned, both in their intensity and physically; his breath was choked, and he wanted to sob. A snarl ripped through him instead. I’ll cut out your heart, Omni, but don’t think I’ll let it be that quick! Maybe I’ll fuck you first; shouldn’t hurt you to spread your legs one more time!

Then his eyes locked on the defender, the athletic male poised at the border. He’d growled the command to leave, but the dragon would not go quietly. He grinned, wildly, desperately, trying to keep himself from crying. Oh, you poor bastard. What’s it like having everyone else’s leftovers?

table by raze; image from wikipedia commons

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