𝐈𝐈𝐈. contamination / razed.

@provocatieure || give her the dAMN ARM

she supposed there were better ways to do this (threaten his life in exchange for the limb, cut off the remainder of his arm, kill him beforehand) but with the sole of her boot buried harshly into his side and both hands wrapped around the golden appendage attempting to tug it free, there was no backing out now.

             embarrassment   /   sheepish avoidance of eye contact, his silhouette shifts along the walls as an apparition.    he is not a man easily humbled, doesn't allow even the deepest of criticisms to affect him.    but this time it’s different.    this time he cares about failing hera, though she hadn’t commented when he’d skipped and ignored a few difficult words.    her eyes are kind, patient  ;  lacking judgement and irritation.    voice amiable   /   hands lithe and patient brush against his shoulder with softness that makes his heart ache in longing.    warmth blossoms beneath his skin where her fingertips come in contact with his illusory body, and he remembers for a moment just how good it feels to be alive.    but every graze is fleeting and he returns to icy reclusion too soon each time.    he’s so close to being real again, and just beyond his grasp a thought tempted by conscious - striking envy begins to form.    acrid in his throat   /   burning like a sip of aged liquor, he swallows the unease down and abruptly slams the book shut.    ❝  this is stupid, a total waste of time,  ❞    arms cross over his chest and he paces to the window.    ❝  let’s do something else   ---   anything else!  ❞