❛ Destiny has chained you to me forever. ❜ / shes talking about their eternal fight to the death thanks
meme. / accepting. / griselde.
the pervading closeness of death has become lacking. jihad has died and died and died and never truly been dead — he is embittered by this tremendously , as the austere of life is unkind and there is rigidity when one lays it asunder still. this is why he is not unnerved , here , the wonder of her closeness staining his senses as svelte fingers mean to suffocate in the cathartic way only she knows : he has died before and will do it again. ringed hand grips one wrist with uncharacteristic tenderness , charade of his anger lost in the countlessness of their unceasing encounters. the other is plucking at her left hand , whose nails are pressing into his jugular with an intensity he does not exactly enjoy. this touch , however , is honest in its urgency , clawing at her steel grasp with weak , shuddering breaths. the slightness of her frame betrays her ; if he doesn’t act , she will certainly win , but that is not so unpleasurable – they have an eternity to spend in the juvenile pursuit of hollow success.
destiny has chained you to me forever. at that , maw curls faintly , a tilt of his chin in a means to extend near - collapsed airway. destiny. what a sickly word. he wishes she would have let him die quietly , so as to spare him from the facade of his own eloquence. in his upset , adonis has decided he does not want to lose and elects to kill her as a means of rebuttal. her speech is followed by a gentle loosening , as if requesting a reply. he authors stunted inhale , damask stain of bloodied teeth glistening ‘neath the warm lights of a destroyed living room. for a moment , he considers being honest , but quickly decides against it. they will remember this night , he feels , which means he must die callously to live callously later. fingers fall from atop hers , running in an aimless grasp at the fur of a scarlet - blotched carpet. where did he drop the knife ? a minor turn of his head , one she allows for a briefness before dragging his blurring focus back , and he catches the glint of it a small distance away. the world focuses again , if only infinitesimally , at the air that expands his lungs in small bouts of freedom. in this clarity is where he makes his decision : become barbaric , bludgeon and be content in the vileness of lucidity.
❝ if i cut off your finger and hid it somewhere , do you think i’d wake up tomorrow and have it still be there ? can i keep you as a trophy and let you rot , griselde ? or would we lose that , too ? ❞ goad is elicited through hoarse , grating tone – one meant to wound. it hits its mark , evidently , as serpentine hold twists and tightens and he is again without breath. his legs begin to writhe in the theatrical way that all bodies refuse death , fingers at her wrist tightening as a free hand moves to her forearm and he twists the arm to opposite ends with a brutal snap ! that makes her shriek wondrously. he is soothed by the sound , by the pliancy of this upset in power , gripping her at the neck and ramming her head into the wooden edge of his coffee - table , inverting their positions. one palm suffocates , if only to subdue her , as the other reaches to grab his dagger. blunt nails dig into the swan - like pallor of her flesh , a steady pool of crimson gathering below her scalp and matting her hair in mesmerizing urgency. all blood is that way : desperate to be known. adonis understands , hears the language of sacrifice and learns to converse in a perverted bloodletting that pacifies the tremor of his psyche cyclically and with unparalleled rhythm. griselde does not want to know it , he realizes , as she begins to struggle against him with the fervor of a rabid dog. he bares his teeth in a starting show of excitement , ecstasy scrawled into the tide of calm that overcomes him at the descent of his blade to her ring finger.
❝ let’s find out. ❞














