01-24-2012, 01:11 AM
Liam was almost surprised that Juliet didn't whine or stomp her foot, or anything. She didn't call him childish names, just looked at him with... nothing in her eyes. A flash of pain, for a second, but nothing he could read. He looked at the stone, then looked at her, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Making something for the festival." His voice was flat, his posture neutral but subtly aggressive. And yet there was something in the way she was acting that wasn't right, it was off.
Hell, last he knew she still hated him for taking her to Crimson dreams and leaving her there. He cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. His ears perked forward, watching her closely, guardedly. "Bet your daddy is near by, ain't he? He gonna come runnin' if I get too close to ya?" Yeah, he was baiting her now, but her silence, her lack of anger towards him perplexed him.
He hefted the little rock, then tossed it to her so she could catch it. "You look like hell, you spoiled brat." He slid his hands into his pockets, watching her, finding himself -despite his confessed hatred for her- concerned about the little monster woman. "How come you don't hate me like the rest of them do?"
The reluctant question slipped out before he could stop himself. He didn't want to ask, didn't want to know or care, and et the words flew out anyways. He tightened his fist around the piece of bone in his pocket, the piece of the shadow wolf's thigh bone that had been embedded in his skin during the fight. He liked to carry it with him, it made him feel powerful.
((WC: 283))
Hell, last he knew she still hated him for taking her to Crimson dreams and leaving her there. He cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. His ears perked forward, watching her closely, guardedly. "Bet your daddy is near by, ain't he? He gonna come runnin' if I get too close to ya?" Yeah, he was baiting her now, but her silence, her lack of anger towards him perplexed him.
He hefted the little rock, then tossed it to her so she could catch it. "You look like hell, you spoiled brat." He slid his hands into his pockets, watching her, finding himself -despite his confessed hatred for her- concerned about the little monster woman. "How come you don't hate me like the rest of them do?"
The reluctant question slipped out before he could stop himself. He didn't want to ask, didn't want to know or care, and et the words flew out anyways. He tightened his fist around the piece of bone in his pocket, the piece of the shadow wolf's thigh bone that had been embedded in his skin during the fight. He liked to carry it with him, it made him feel powerful.
((WC: 283))