[ groom ] / listen i'm obligated
 it starts with a knife to the throat , as it always does . though you want something different now â to taste something other than gravel and the broken teeth in your mouth . but violence has an unmissable flavour , one that coats the tongue in thick , oil splotches and invades every groove , every scar shaping the inner side of your cheek . it refuses exile , only burrows further into the space between the door and its frame like a termite , so you continue to dig your teeth into the flesh of your mouth in hopes of crushing it before it can breed . the action itself is anxious but disciplined . itâs much better than biting your nails . this is a secret between yourself and the grave of your body .Â
but now , it is hers too . everything is . this body is an altar for her and is no longer your own , no longer a sanctuary for thoughts all too vile for freedomâs gentle embrace . if he were to be frank with himself , he may even grow fond of this change over time . there is no need to run anymore . there is no longer a knife at his throat ( but this feeling cuts all the same , bites into the flesh side of his neck with teeth made of desire for something too foreign to have a name , too new to be christened anything but a quiet draw of breath when she comes too close , so close he can taste the perfume she is wearing , each hurried breath a starling bird falling to freedom ) . this is new and like all the new things are , itâs overwhelming . it aches and it clots in his blood in words untranslatable to human tongue and he , more often than not , finds himself stuck âtween wanting to take her hand into his or to simply drain this capricious brain of his through the eyes , ears and nostrils . gruesome ? yes . painful ? probably . effective ? absolutely .
  â â   but not right now .
â youâre fussinâ again . â and he is basking in the attention . the sun spills through the gaps in velvet drapes in golden streams , pools at her feet as if her most loyal servant and he notes ( idly , through half - lidded eyes ) if she were to step into its centre â ah , but these hands at his neck are too distracting , rob him of every thought that does not serve as a reminder of how radiant she is . and that just wonât do . â hey , hey , â itâs spoken soft , softer than he had originally intended it to be ( focus , reno . ) while calloused hands ( scarred , knife - marked , born to choke , made to bleed â ) take hold of hers , gently , gently . â if you adjust this thing âround my neck one more time , ya might as well just choke me with it , princess . ât least then i wonât have to suffer through yet another gathering of â â âÂ
       ( â witches / cretins / councilmen / commoners / well - wishers /                                      your dearest idiot brother and his idiot men â )
â â â you get the gist . â but this is not about him , never has been . â listen . â with her hands still gently held inside his own , a smile carves its way into his cheeks , brilliant and full of teeth ( the devil only smiles before slaughter â but petty mischief would just have to do , for now . ) â letâs get out of here , itâs boring . i know youâre bored . i know iâm bored , so câmon . they wonât miss you if youâre only gone for an hour of two , â or five , or ten , â and in the meantime we can do somethinâ actually worthwhile . â / @deacruor
