#uccisore

Send Me A Symbol For A (Angst) Starter!

Send me “♪” for my muse to react to your muse insulting mine.

A snarling mountain lion would be less of a sight. Lips revealing, threatening fangs, his face scrunched like crumpled paper. He was livid. Molly O’Shea? The woman he had taken in? Let her sleep in his cot? Shower with affection? She who dared to speak so lowly of him. The nerve.

 It had not been the first time this week she acted beyond her position. The two were not getting along as they had used to. It was as if the “love” between them and shrivelled up and died. A wilting orchid. The reality was that Dutch’s affection was only ever conditional. Now that Molly has come to her senses, having had enough of being pushed away and neglected, he really should have expected no less.

“Absolutely. I already have a vague idea of his psychosis, but psychosis doesn’t make the person. Not really. There’s more to it than that. If there wasn’t, no one would care.” Chase shrugged her slender shoulders at her own analysis of the criminal, and took another sip of wine, hunger almost completely subsiding. She was never a heavy eater. “His motivation for destruction — chaos — is …” She didn’t have the concrete answer. Not yet. “The families of his victims and the public will demand one, but I don’t know if it exists, quite frankly. Deep down the police know that.”  

“lord stark,” she greets. “thank you for seeing me today. i...have a request.”

Interview the muse

 Love. A word he’s heard most of his life, but rarely got to experience it in full. He loved his mother who became dearly departed from this world far too soon, at the tender age of ten D was left alone with his ruthless father. And as one could guess the hunter held no love for that man. 

  But romantically, there had been very few people he’s held deep affection for. And one of those very few was standing before him. A woman who radiated beauty even with numerous scars on her body and heart. She did not fear the dhampir, nor did she hate him and spew prejudice thoughts. Jane accepted him as he was. Treated him as everyone else. And it was something D was so relieved to experience.

  If only his job as a bounty hunter didn’t constantly get in the way of knowing more about her. If only he had more opportunities to open up more about himself, to be able to shed the stoic mask and just feel. For once. 

   “I believe love is devotion. One that is persistent and undying, to surrender certain parts of yourself that you never thought to. It goes beyond affection, and beyond death. It’s something eternal.”