#argenterni

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                ❝            No.❞

        Porcelain skin is pale; a sickly alabaster hue that lacks the familiar blush of the joyful girl. For over a week the light of the estate has been eclipsed. Two bright orbs peer out at the other from that sad visage— overcast with the untruth she speaks and haunted by the carnage she’s witnessed. She holds herself with the same perennial sadness of a doll that has been too broken to properly display with the rest. Pallid child parts lips that have lost their vibrant red life; her soft exhale is one of few signs that she is truly still alive. 

        Of the many things that hold the cold woman’s disdain— unpredictability is easily one of her most hated aspects. Most men are predictable, easily controlled, easily detected when they step too far out of line; criminals are only more savvy to this rule. They lie and cheat, that much can be expected of them, but they will always meet the desires of the highest bidder and they will always look out firstly for their own interests. When you know what someone wants most in the underworld society of Gotham, you can use them; DESTROY them.

                  When you know what someone wants, you know what they will do.

         Malia is one of very few exceptions to these simple rules. More wolf than woman, loyal to her core and beloved by the so-called ice queen— of all her admirable qualities, spontaneity is one of her very few less desirable aspects. Malia is loyal, more than anyone she has ever met. Aurora trusts her with her life, and money isn’t required for her to place that trust in her. Malia isn’t afraid to disobey, unlike many of her paid men. Malia will not lie to her, will not abandon her— but might disappear, reappear as she likes, do as she likes.

          Aurora has thought many times that what Malia wanted was her— yet, Malia has her. And that does not erase Malia’s habits of impulse, unpredictability. Money does not satisfy a wolf, and neither does any other form of material wealth. They are inseparably intertwined, their fates are bound in BLOOD. Perhaps the element of surprise is bound to Malia just as Aurora is.

          When her back meets the wall in a dizzying rush, anger fills her first, more than anything else— and when she retaliates, shoves her way back in resistance, Malia holds her down with ease. Aurora is strong, Malia is strongest— in physical aspects, at the least. Pale hues gaze into those two dark pools before her, anticipating as best she can what comes next.

                   Impulse is the enemy of a woman who plans her every move.

          Those beloved teeth sink into her neck, without warning, and Aurora does not cry out. How long has it been since last they found themselves like this ? The last time Malia stood over her, she’d been smaller, vulnerable, trusting— warm. Canines nestle their way into the curve of her neck, so deep that they threaten to draw blood. Aurora’s hands find their way to the other woman’s shoulders, and she doesn’t know whether to push her away or pull her closer. 

           Malia withdraws eventually, and that dark gaze wanders down to view the mark left behind with satisfaction that the blonde finds utterly irritating of her— yet doesn’t allow her to pull away. Immaculate, painted nails dig into the fabric of Malia’s shirt to announce her hold on the other, and Aurora hides whatever joy she might feel beneath icy façade.

               She's by the window when Allison enters the house. Aurora leaves the least out of their little family, and so it's become somewhat-tradition for her to be in the front couple of rooms when her sister returns ( at decent hours ), peering out the window.

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