#ms. blake

I couldn’t help myself

The Villain

The bad guys. The mad scientists, the cruel executives, the evil witches and wizards, the corrupt politicians, the mortal aspects of pure evil, and, more often than not, the people (or otherwise) that instigate the conflict and the story. You are a very determined individual with a very strict set of rules. Your mind is mostly thinking about how you can reach your goals and conquer your ambitions. You are often described as cunning and intelligent by the few who stick by your side. You like sticking to the shadows and observing, rather than interacting and taking action. 

 Quiz here

shamelessly stolen :) 

It was almost too effortless, the letting go of such a deep seated obsession, and he found himself checking and re-checking his thinking on the matter only to come to the conclusion that he really was quite done. Revenge was an intoxicant he’d often lavished in, but for Lyris…

“I’d bleed for you, Ms. Blake.” He’d offered her something he’d willingly given to no other, his own life given into her malicious, beautiful hands. If she desired it of him to cease his games, the games would end. If she’d wanted to strangle him that night, he would have let her if only to exit the world with her fingers around his throat. How many nights had he stayed up thinking about the intriguing blonde? How many plans had been laid to waste at her feet without her even knowing it?

Was this infatuation? Was it love? Could beings like them every truly understand the meaning of that word?

It doesn’t really matter, he reasoned with himself. If this is how it ends, let it end brilliantly and catastrophically. Let us get so lost in one another that it doesn’t matter if we ever find our way out. He found an eerie sort of madness had made its home in the darkest parts of his heart, a yearning that he could not be rid of no matter how many times he had tried. What was the point? Lyris had him bound tighter than she even knew. Let it be a daydream or a fever, but let me fall into it and never come back up.

He knew nothing about me, not really. Not while our lips hovered over one another and we breathed in the want of monstrous company.  Not while his hands withdrew from their ever present gloves and tracked fire across my skin. We knew nothing about each other and it hardly seemed to matter. What was this strange draw? This seeking need to care little for consequences of the actions we take. He could kill me with a word, I could end him with a look..and perhaps that is why such precautions must be forgotten. We would think ourselves out of every decision before his fingers had the chance to bury themselves in my hair. So this is passion. This is the power the Raven Father infects me with, he is smoke finding ways inside my rib cage, convincing my lungs I have no reason to breathe. His darkness has lain its fingers on whatever constitutes as my affection..and I want him there.

So this is passion...

"If I could split you apart to understand your passions I would Mr. Lanphere. I would claw my fingers into that black heart you speak of and listen to it spill stories to me. I wish to...understand the kind of need, the kind of motivation that has driven you to revenge."

"I'll cut it out for you if you'd like, Ms. Blake. If you wish to know my motivations, however, I'm afraid it's my mind you'd have to dissect. My heart carries a very light weight and few emotional attachments."

"I beg to differ. Your heart is alive and well, soot and ink, but there and that…...that is what I want. I ruin lives Mr. Lanphere, I am made no other way. I kill..quickly, efficiently, and without passion. You tell me of the ways you annihilate others, the ways you wish to make them miserable, ways you wish to watch a world be lit in flames. That is passion Mr. Lanphere and that is indeed a heart."

"Would you like to burn it with me, Lyris? Would you be willing to replace my revenge? Give me something... more to look forward to?"

"Yes."

"Kiss me then, the game ends and a new one begins. That's the offer, Ms. Blake."

so...

This is passion.

The taste of her lips still lingered long after the Raven Father had left the woman’s shop, sanguine staining the edges of his mouth. It was an unusual feeling that had settled in the back of his mind, making his trip back to his own quarters pass by in a blur of faces and dark alleyways. Nothing stood out to him, his thoughts hopelessly painted in shades of crimson and black, contrasted by harsh green eyes and a smile that could cut him to the quick. How had it come to this?

“I don’t hold things I intend to let slip through my fingers.”

He’d touched her, skin to skin, had brushed fingertips over the smooth pillar of her throat. There was no recollection as to how it’d come to that point nor even why he’d felt it appropriate, but there was something alluring about a beast whose darkness matched his own so well. Perhaps most amazing was that he had not made her do any of it. Of her own free will she’d touched him, kissed him and allowed him to touch her in return.

Was it a game he was playing against her or against himself? That was the question that kept echoing through the halls of Landon’s mind as he made his way through his offices and out onto the small balcony that overlooked the street below. The night was warm and the stars bright overhead, yet he couldn’t appreciate the serenity of the evening with such turbulent thoughts rattling around in his brain.

Maybe it wasn’t a game at all. Maybe he was fooling himself into believing he had any control over the course of events that were unfolding. All he could say with utter certainty was that in his dreams, as the world burned around him, she was there at his side with a smile on her face.

 We use the trees as torches Do you wanna burn it with me? Fill the streets with corpses Do you wanna burn it with me? Watch the city fucking bleed Do you wanna burn it with me? Bring the world to its knees Do you wanna burn it with me?