I Wanna Dance... And Burn...

It certainly wouldn’t take a genius to notice how his earlier comments had affected the Nymph standing now so still, right in front of him. If her whole body language wasn’t enough to denote the utter displeasure practically steaming from her ( which was quite entertaining to witness, to be honest ) the constant yet nearly imperceptible change of emotions written all over that feminine and delicate visage; would have done the job without any trouble. But really, what exactly had Delilah been expecting? It only had taken the appearance of that God for her to show at least a little bit of interest in his current occupation.

Ashes were pure -- fire was pure. There was nothing more pure than      that which could burn and purify everything to the same charred      remains. Ashes were ashes. There was no distinguishing      between the ashes of one thing and the next, except by those      who peered past the natural element of things and in to the      s c i e n t i f i c. She couldn’t understand those people. Delilah      was a creature of nature. She was all things found and made by      the gods, and anything that attempted to find “reason” in      the “chaos” that was life, well -- it wasn’t for her to understand.  So as she stared down at the pile she’d created, watching as her flames      slowly dwindled and died, Delilah felt a strange calm come over      her. Her fingers ran through ash and tears stung at the corners of      her eyes, and she felt calm... or numb. Maybe numb was a better      word. She couldn’t understand how it was possible for this man to      suddenly be so cold towards her. What had happened to the laughter      from prior?? I’d show you mine and, you’d show me yours. They’d      been playing a rather fun game and now he was like stone -- So      quickly he changed... And what?? He really considered her      nothing more than a thing in his way?? Did she not serve some      purpose in this fight?? Did she not manage to heal his wounds,      to give him time to find himself before Thantos killed him?? She’d      helped... She was sure she helped... She may not be a fighter -- but      she had purpose... Delilah K N E W she had purpose...   ❝ There are more jobs      in a war,       that the soldiers...  ❞ In one slow motion, Delilah was standing once again, her back still to the      Exorcist, watching the horizon and the orange and red tints that spoke      of sunset creeping upon them. He spoke to her as if she were a      child -- a child who needed to be so bluntly taught the ways of life...      Yet could he not truly see just how much of it she already knew??      The tears that had threatened so earnestly to fall were gathered in      one swipe of her hand. No tears. No crying. Maybe if she didn’t cry,      the emotions would still and soothe. Maybe she could stomach      finally turning and facing him.                              so that was exactly what she did. ❝ You can’t know      E V E R Y T H I N G.      You can’t know      all of the gods histories,      their gifts,      their driving influences.      But I do.      I’ve lived among them      since before history      was a concept to men.      I c a n H E L P you.  ❞ The usually soft cornflower hues were stone like as she stared down the      red-head. She knew in her heart that he would probably deny her.      Again and again they would argue this idea: him thinking she’d      only be in the way, her too stubborn to conceive walking away.      All she could do was will him, silently push her thoughts towards      him...                                          let me help you                                  let me help you exorcist                                          i can help you

A bemused roll of a single emerald hue couldn’t be contained when lithe arms suddenly wormed their way around his waist from behind. The feeling was certainly distracting at most, but not uncomfortable in the slightest. Nor unwelcome, but quite the opposite instead. Yet again, the Nymph currently pressing herself against his back didn’t need to be aware of that last bit of information; for the Exorcist knew without a doubt how he wouldn’t be able to push that tempting body away from his own personal bubble if that were the case.

From where those cornflower hues peeked around the Exorcist’s form,      Delilah could almost see his self-satisfaction. It beckoned her      forward like a brilliant calling and though she couldn’t explain      why, it made her want him all the more. Sure his teasing and      tenaciousness was rather vexing, but she was nothing if not      able to keep up.  ❝ You certainly could have      fooled me then.      All these clothes on you...  ❞ With a mischievous glint shining so brightly in her eyes, Delilah      finally moved her fingers -- picking the upward path and taking      his shirt along with them. Inch by inch she moved his shirt,      letting her fingers tease slow circles along their path. She felt      each muscle, defined and taut beneath his skin, and she felt      the smallest trace of goosebumps forming in her wake. She      craved him, she craved him more than she could really justify.      She wanted to touch him and taste him and be w i t h him --      N O W...                      patience was never really my forte...  When his shirt had finally been rolled up to a point where it aligned      with her lips, Delilah began the slow task of kissing along his      skin. Her lips traced a circular path across his chest as she      slowly moved around his form to stand in front of him. Her      fingers continued pushing his shirt upward, towards his arm,      so it could be pulled over his head, so that she could have just      a little bit more of him than she did right then. At the top of his      chest she finally stopped pushing, looking up at him through      darkened eyes as her nails drug a slow path downward on his      back. She dared not look away from him, dared not break that      eye contact to see the form that her body was pressed so tightly      against. In that moment she dared not even breathe --  ❝ Wouldn’t it be      so much more      c o m f o r t a b l e      without them??   ❞

I’m fine. I’ll just fuck you until you love me,

“– PRAY tell, what d’ya know ‘bout this war?” The sharpness his tone of voice suddenly acquired didn’t match the ever present smile that was still painted upon his lips, much less the sudden cold edge that overtook his lone emerald hue as he now towered over her petite form. The redhead’s young features reflected now so many contradictions, for the Nymph’s abrupt attitude and words had certainly managed to hit a well hidden nerve inside of him.

It was a flash like lightening in the nymph’s eyes, but the sudden tone      from the other did t r u l y catch her off guard. Her composer was      lost in a moment of hesitation at his words because, in T R U T H,      she could not deny them. It angered her more than she would      dare to admit, for him to be right on such an instance, and that      certainly shown brightly in her eyes, but she didn’t speak. Delilah      let silence permeate between them -- long moments offering      nothing but the held gaze of sapphire and emerald optics. How      could he know what his words did to move her?? What could he      know of the frustrations of watching people die that he loved??      Of watching f a m i l y, ones S P E C I E S parish before him?!      Yes -- Yes he was right... There was more to this than she      could P O S S I B L Y fathom at the moment, more sides to the      world and to this w a r than she knew possible, but that didn’t      make her emotions any less sincere!! Who was he to tell her      she was wrong?!                one who has lived through more than his age dictates...  There was no denying the truth in such a notion, for either party. It was      obvious in the way the Exorcist carried himself, as well as in the      way he spoke: he was wise beyond his years, maybe even beyond      hers and maybe that was part of what frustrated her so much...      Nymphs weren’t made to be W I S E creatures -- They were      things of flesh and pleasures, and the body required so much less      thought in such instances. By any other situation, Delilah would      easily have shown her nativity and laughed it off with a lazy      shrug of slender shoulders, yet here she was now -- so      angered that words seemed to have forgotten what it felt like to      be spoken.  With no sound daring to slip between the slightly parted red lips of the      nymph, Delilah turned away from him, her palms heating quicker      than she truly cared for. It wasn’t like she wanted to F I G H T him,      or a n y o n e really, but she just wasn’t sure what else to do with      herself. She could feel the flames moving beneath her skin, fighting      for their freedom, demanding their release!! Darkened eyes soon      fell upon a bit of tree branches, probably blown to the ground as a      result of Thanatos’s gale and moved towards them with a true      purpose. Run and hide for too long -- yes those had been his      words... And there really couldn’t be a more accurate description      of her cowardice. She’d been underground F A R too long...  She fell to her knees before the branches, fingers reaching outward      for the scraping texture of the bark, and let herself release the      frustrations she’d been containing. The wood burned bright and      passionately, like everything the nymph let herself feel. She didn’t      ever go half-way, she didn’t know H O W to do so... and this      situation was no different.  She spoke finally, but her gaze didn’t move from the downed limbs and      the flames that licked at her own hands as it charred it’s way along.      She didn’t dare to see the expression Lavi was sure to be fixing on      her -- she didn’t W A N T to see that putrid mix of pity and agitation...      She wanted to help... She N E E D E D to help -- somehow...  ❝ There has to be S O M E T H I N G --       Someway I can help...   ❞ 

An airy laugh escaped the redhead’s throat when instead of answering to his earlier comment, the Nymph merely suggested they could try the shower. Of course, that should have been expected. It wasn’t like she was going to admit how desperate she was actually feeling as implied. He bemusedly tilted his head in reply, then. Letting himself be observed for a moment longer while at the same time studying and cataloguing every slight change in those feminine features. Perhaps, self conscious could also be added to that list of emotions… The Bookman apprentice almost felt guilty for being the sole cause of it.

A low purr escaped the nymph’s lips the moment she found      herself being held so close. The warmth of his body      (even despite the shirt he wore that blocked that      lascivious skin and skin contact) was a welcome feeling.      She was putty in his hands and it wasn’t something she      was well accustomed to feeling like. If just to be held in      such a way for a little longer, Delilah would have been      content -- but the grin that tugged so casually at the      Exorcist’s lips revealed just how unsatisfied she was      meant to be.  She found herself to be released and was instantly overcome      with frustrations yet again. How was it possible for some      mere mortal to evade her so vehemently?? Maybe      because she vowed not to charm the man?? Maybe      because this was the simple mortal effort?? She could      kiss him -- she could force that madness upon him and      win him for her own at the cost of his sanity... But that      seemed unjust and rather unwarranted. She’d have to do      this as human women did -- as impossible a task as that      seemed to be...  With a darkness coating her gaze, Delilah watched the man      reach for his bags, folding her arms just beneath the lace      cups of her bra. What could she possibly -- An idea      struck her quickly and roughly, pushing a wicked gleam      to her eyes. She’d try this, she’d try this as her final      ploy -- for how many times could someone be denied      before they simply gave up??  Moving quickly behind the man, Delilah let her arms snake      around his waist, resting against the line where his shirt      ended, sneaky fingers brushing slowly against the skin,      teasing in which direction she could go -- upwards to      touch the toned flesh of his chest, or downward --      skimming the parts of him she craved most of all -- oh      which direction should she go...  ❝ You sound like you don’t      enjoy a little nakedness, Lavi...      Can that really be the case??  ❞ 

tvd-iron-fey-nerdy:

That tender smile held so much difference from the previous ones he had been receiving so far from the female since the two of them had first crossed paths. It almost felt weird, nearly accustomed already to that constant coy and playful turn of lips in such a short time frame. But the redhead didn’t waste a single second to return it with a wide grin of his own. An automatic response.

There was something so gratifying in watching the git of her flames      grow and spread to another. So often nymphs were only seen in      the capacity of deviants: sexual creatures with nothing more      than their own desires to satisfy, but in truth they were so much      more!! Nymphs had gifts, both malicious and benign, and one      such was the power to heal. She’d used it so seldomly because      frankly who would she gift with that flame?? Her lovers of      most recent times had been gods and titans themselves,      immortals that needed no such magics – she’d nearly      forgotten what it felt like to whisper the small pray and      command the sparks forth until just moments ago when she      did so for this man. She hadn’t been able to watch… In those      moments she’d only had eyes for the god of death and the      imminent doom that was spelled out for her, but now – Now      she could watch as a red flush passed over his skin. She      could watch as relief passed over his visage and pain was      released. It was beautiful to behold and it was so satisfying to      know it was all her own doing. To say she was pleased with      herself was far from enough.    And…then it ended…quick… So quick that he was able to just throw      her to the side as if it’d “never happened”… Was that something      that was done often with these Exorcists and their war?? The      people who laid witness it it were just E X P E C T E D to      f o r g e t?? No… No that wouldn’t work for her, and it showed on      the doll like features of the nymph: sand colored brows furrowed      tightly together, the joy she’d felt at his healing completely      dissipated, cornflower hues flashes darkly in their anger, and      the fingers that had so delicately rested against his arms      clenched into fists at her sides. This wasn’t right!! This wasn’t      fair!! What did this mortal know of the world of gods?! Yes he      wielded their flames but he had no tru understanding of what      made them burn!! How could he even H O P E to defeat      someone like Thanatos with little more knowledge of him than      the language he spoke?! Of course… It wasn’t often one met      a man who spoke the old tongued Greek and that D I D      account for quite a bit… But it was far from enough…  ❝ You’re joking r i g h t?? ❞ The nymph offered the other a soft laugh, one that was clearly      sarcastic in it’s origins. He couldn’t have been serious –      There was no way!!  ❝ How can you say      It’s not M Y war,      when M Y gods are fighting in it??       I’m not A F R A I D of dying,      nor do I W A N T to die,      but I’ve been at war a lot longer      than you’ve been alive. ❞ The words bit… They stung on her tongue as she snapped them at      the boy with fire in his hair. So often the world thought so little      of nymphs… Creatures of play – wanton things no better than      running in the woods to set mischief and hearts ablaze –      and y e s, maybe that was where her true desires rested, but      standing up to the god changed something inside of her. So      long she’d been running and hiding – For so many decades      she’d lived with the constant fear of being found and of being      killed – but what good did that do her?! She was no closer to      being happy than she was when she’d first fled and every      sense in her body told her she’d be no happier if she      continued to flee. Fight or flight. Those were the motivations      of the lessers and the animals, of the humans an the gods, of      those at war and those in hiding… She’d been flying for such      a long time…  Now she wanted to fight. 

Tense muscles automatically relaxed after the first signs of awareness the Nymph in his arms started to show. Good, consciousness was awesome. He could tell the confrontation with Thanatos had taken it’s toll on her. Those two apparently had some kind of background history that his training as one of the Bookman clan made him feel slightly curious about. Eager to know more. 

Pain... Of course... The Exorcist was in pain!! How daft of her to      not realize sooner!! The hand that had fallen into her lap tense      slightly, fisting against the fabric of her shirt, nodding slowly      and letting herself shift from his arms to the floor. She sat      for a moment, blinking still up at the sky before allowing      herself to gaze upwards at him, tilting her head slightly and      offering him a tender smile. Any other time the nymph      might not have taken so kindly to such name calling,      but -- but they were alive and such an occasion meant      exceptions to the standard.  ❝ You’re an idiot      because you just T A U N T E D a god      and fought one –      Yet you act like it’s another day      in the p a r k. ❞ She stood slowly, watching with a curious eye the care he took in      his weapon’s placement. It was clearly something special --      she could only imagine how Hephaestus would miss it in his      forge and once more made the note to ask of it’s origins; so      many things to remember it seemed. Her gaze made a slow pass up his body, enjoying his height over      her, even despite the events that preceded. He was an attractive      man, there was no denying that. The scraps and cuts became      him in a way -- they told a story that left her on the edge of her      seat, wanting for more... But he was in pain, and that just      wouldn’t do. With a slight tilt her head, once her eyes met his,      Delilah winked and stepped closer, moving to her toes so that      she could place a tender kiss upon his cheek, lips barely      brushing the roughed skin. A small bit of heat fell from her      breath, a variation of the flame that she’d sent to him prior to      heal the bump on his head from Thanatos’ first attack. At the      same time, flames appeared at the fingers she let rest against      his arms. She whispered the soft Greek command, sending      the flames to heal him before she acknowledged his question,      leaning back from him and averting her gaze.  ❝ You could say that.      I knew his brother      and he was rather jealous.      Not all Gods like the idea      of l o w l y nymphs      being close to the immortals.  ❞ Slender shoulders rose and fell as the nymph tried to quickly divert      from the subject. Some histories weren’t sharing -- some stories      not worth telling -- and this seemed to be one to her. Her      relations with the Death, Sleep and Dream Gods had been      the kind people wrote about, not truly experienced. She’d      caused far too much trouble and she’d learned her place as      she hid -- why rehash the misery??  One thing though -- One thing she needed to understand was what      would happen. There was no denying that the world was      suddenly changing. War was going on in so many ways: the      gods and titans still fought over Olympus and now to learn      that a war existed between these akumas and -- well, and      the world... And this very war is bringing in the gods?? What      hope did humanity have?? Bunker down far below the      ground and pray to their Christian Lord that they be spared??      To whatever God would listen to them...  ❝ I don’t understand M U C H      about these akuma      you mentioned      but to have a god of death      on their side...      What will w e do next??  ❞

Tempting, cunning, little female. Emerald hue darkened right then, intently watching those slow movements of hers; not once daring to cast a look away. The Exorcist was half tempted to grab that delicate wrist and stop her from touching him, but instead he merely stood there. In silence and unmoving, just observing. Having the Nymph so eagerly trying to please and seduce him, so that he could finally give in and stay; was entertaining at most. It also made the redhead wonder if she was accustomed to try just as hard for other males.

Frustration -- It was a feeling the nymph was growing all too familiar      with when near to the Exorcist. How was it possible that he was      immune to her charms?? How was he capable of what no other      mortal man was?? The answer taunted her, whispering it’s way      through her mind as she stared at the shirt that now once more      covered the mark she’d created. What started as a joke, a      simple and sexual joke, was turning against her faster than she      could really fathom. -- She was loosing her gift. Too much time      in the world of humans had left her little more than human herself      it seemed. The red-headed male was too confident, too sure of      himself, and it frustrated her and thrilled her and angered her --      all at once.  ❝ We could always try      the shower.  ❞  She didn’t dare lift her head to meet his gaze though. Her sapphire hues      were only for that sport on his waist -- trying so desperately to      ignore his teasing words and to think of ways to remove the mark.       ‘It could always be burned off...’  But the other didn’t know just how right he was; she’d never admit it, she      wouldn’t, but it was more than just desire that guided her... She      couldn’t stand the idea of being rejected again. Gods, Titans...      M a y b e they were one thing... A human?? Had she fallen so      low?? She finally looked up at him, brow furrowed in her frustration, but eyes      holding hope still. She’d remove the mark if it was he so desired...      She’d do it... But she needed him to stay to do so.  ❝ I have a few o t h e r ideas... ❞

She sure did move quicker than expected. The Exorcist paused right in front of her, watching silently as she slowly sat down on top of the bag he had intended to take before exiting that room. But unfortunately or not now – that couldn’t just be done. Crossing his arms with a slight head tilt, he stood still and let her eyes wander all over his body. Not failing to note how she almost seemed to drink him in, which was more arousing than it certainly should have been. 

All kinds of women, huh?? A perfectly arched sandy brow quirked      upwards, amusement clearly evident on her doll like features.      She tilted her head to mirror the motion of his own, slowly      nibbling her lower lip, trying to register just what is was that      made him so stubborn. Was it really that mark that frustrated      him so?? That was an amusing idea. A boy who didn’t like to      be claimed?? T H E R E was an original idea. Maybe she      could humor him just a little bit...  In one smooth movement, Delilah shifted from her seat on his bag      to rest on her knees before him, looking up at him with devilish      intent, her hands resting on her thighs for just a moment before      one moved to lift the hem of his shirt, the other to her mouth. Her      eyes never leaving his, she slowly ran her tongue over the pad      of her thumb, popping it in her mouth for a moment before      looking back at his hip and the mark that ailed his so. In a      deliberately slow motion, Delilah drew her thumb from between      her lips, placing it on the first letter of the word and brushing it      slowly, removing the first part of the ink before looking back up      at him with lust shining in her darkened sapphire hues.  ❝ Is that better then?? ❞ 

If a gloved hand hadn’t moved to distractedly wave away the Nymph’s comment, then no one would have been able to guess if such words reached the Exorcist at all. Though his stance was still relaxed at most, as if bored, his single emerald hue wouldn’t dare to glance away from Thanatos. Satisfaction coursing through him at the look on his enemy’s face. It was impossible to miss the frustration in those features. For he had been right with his assumptions earlier on, no doubt. And it was pretty obvious his current laid back attitude was striking some kind of nerve deep inside the Death God. All the more fun.

Fainting was nice. Fainting was good. Fainting led to a peaceful place      where big bad gods with their vengeful plans couldn’t touch her.      Fainting was a b l e s s i n g -- but... Good things come to an end      far sooner than one would wish don’t they?? Fainting is only      fainting, not sleeping, and though she craved to fall back into the      sweet black void that was unconsciousness, Delilah was all too      awake -- awake and in someone’s arms... It was his voice that reached her first -- his voice that called through      silence and warm and gently pulled her forth... Ok maybe not      gently... There was an edge to the sound, a tension and a frustration      that frankly did not serve her well, but it did the trick. Then it was      the shaking -- oh damn the shaking!! It was enough!! It was more      than enough!! Eyes as blue as cornflowers fluttered open, focusing in slowly on the      redhead who cradled her in his arms -- oh this was nice... so very      n i c e... and she just stared at him in silence. She stared and let the      events come back to her -- the slow flood of fighting and certain      death, of healing flames and falling men, of hammers and wings and      fire -- so much fire. Could all of those things really have      transpired?? Could they really have fought with -- well... No. Could      H E have really fought against Thanatos and survived?? It just      seemed so i m p o s s i b l e -- So hard to grasp...  Before she could think better of the action, Delilah reached outwards,      letting her finger tips brush against the scrapped skin of his      cheek -- clear signs of his fight, clear signs that S O M E T H I N G      had occurred... Her sapphire hues locked with that singular emerald      and she gently began to let her fingers drift, brushing against the hair      that fell loosely against his brow. She brushed it back from his face,      ran her fingers through that brilliantly flaming hair, before finally      letting her hand fall to her lap once more.  ❝ You’re an idiot –   ❞ The nymph made no move to escape his hold, nor did she have any      true desire to, but she did tear her gaze from his. Instead of studying the      face that bore such injuries because of h e r, Delilah studied the horizon,      watching where the God had flown with all the misery and dejection in      her eyes that she carried in her heart. She’d tried so hard to stay under      his radar, to stay under A N Y God’s radar, but her own eagerness had      made her foolhardy -- this was no one’s fault but her own and he was      wearing the result of that.  ❝ What have I done...??       Gods and –      Akuma??       This wont be good...      For anyone...  ❞

It’s hard to let go. Even when what you’re holding onto is full of thorns, it’s hard to let go. Maybe especially then.