I was bullied - continued from here with @hellfeather
Maybe a couple thousand years ago she might have flinched back from the approaching mass. Maybe even further back she would have bared her teeth at every misconceived threat invading her presence including this one.
Only but a couple years ago she thought she could get away with an artfully formed grin and silver-tongued lies. From a history of never being able to. Having to find fancy work arounds to twist tales for convenience and safety. Oh how good she was, when the shackle lifted and she could simply say something false.
Fenix does not try now, not with this one.
Dare say she does not want to.
Experience and the weight on her shoulders makes it abundantly clear it won't work; nor will it be tolerated in this moment.
Lips do peel back over sharp teeth as she's adjusted and moved, the gleam of sharp edges less a threat at his handling and more a hint of unguarded emotion, the swell of her neck expanding and sinking with a swallow. A pulse of bioluminescence from temple to down under the layers of her attire.
A keen leaves her when he gives her what she wants, willing in this instance to not hide in the shred of brief vulnerability.
Perhaps later she could feel ashamed or embarrassed.
"...Maybe I just like hearing you say my name." It's a shot of habitual and self-deflecting humor on a voice uncharacteristically hoarse. Teeth finally clicking as her mouth shuts. She feels raw, scraped across the coals- thankful in this moment that her wings are not visible, exposed enough as is.
Claws lift as if to touch, to join, twitching in hesitation just shy of the white of his coat. There had not been hesitation in touching him in a long time.
There is a who at fault here, it's clear enough in the jolting interactions and reactions and centuries of familiarity. Teeth grind in a painful grate, just to ease at tracing fingertips, a huff of frustrated air ruffling blond strands looming above.
"How long... do you have?" How much time could he spare?














