#decollatiion

quiet snort in a background

{ the hair at the back of his neck stands up, cool sweat slowly dripping down past his collar, and oz wonders, hopes, his fingers aren’t trembling }

There is a smile stretched across his cheeks, unease in the slope of his shoulders, blonde hair curling at the nape of his neck and his ears, posture straight, one arm resting against the table, gently stroking the tablecloth, the other, a gloved finger tracing the engraved handles of a tea cup.

    “-- I’m honored to be invited.”

{ he forces himself to relax, lets his grin become less saccharine, lets his voice be soft and ringing, attempting to be docile, hidden steel flashing between the beat of his eyelashes, in the moistening of his lips, and he leans forward }

      “I know relations between our two houses have been tense.”

{ oz grimaces internally -- what an understatement }

Regardless, the tension in the air is unpalatable -- akin to a snake, fangs bared, ready to strike -- it’s suffocating, the thickness coils and unfurls, tendrils caressing the soft of Oz’s neck, squeezing gently, choking -- 

//kicks you to homework