[ He's wondered, more than once now, how he looks to her. He has some understanding of his own features, garnered simply by touch, by memory, by what people have told him — of pale beauty, best used, he'd been told, in service of the hunt. He knows how to alter his expression, to darken his gaze, to arch his eyebrows just so, to look both dangerous and welcoming, to make an easy lure for most who've crossed his path. But she's seen him at both highs and lows, now, and more than that, she sees him differently. That's the version of himself that he truly wants to see.
In that light, he almost envies the change she'd made for herself – the new, pale moonlight of her hair, a physical declaration of her rebirth. She conveys strength, to him, in a way he knows he doesn't — he hasn't wanted to, really — as foreign to him as sunlight had once been, but shining upon him, for him alone. (He doesn't take that for granted, either.)
And, still, the feline comparison isn't far off the mark — eager for a spot in the sun, for an affectionate touch, but still with a slight fickle streak, prone to running off should something else catch his attention. Granted, quite a high bar to clear at this point. ]
Oh?
[ He laughs, bright and cheerful (and only a little mock offended), the sound quickly muffled by the press of her lips as he once again cranes up to meet her touch, her warmth. That nip gets a satisfied sort of hiss — it's not often he's on the other side of that particular equation. ]
Not up to your exacting standards, my dear? [ he murmurs, the next time their lips part, his tongue darting over the faint pinpricks of sensation left by her teeth. He sighs, nosing against her pulse, the line of her jaw.
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In that light, he almost envies the change she'd made for herself – the new, pale moonlight of her hair, a physical declaration of her rebirth. She conveys strength, to him, in a way he knows he doesn't — he hasn't wanted to, really — as foreign to him as sunlight had once been, but shining upon him, for him alone. (He doesn't take that for granted, either.)
And, still, the feline comparison isn't far off the mark — eager for a spot in the sun, for an affectionate touch, but still with a slight fickle streak, prone to running off should something else catch his attention. Granted, quite a high bar to clear at this point. ]
Oh?
[ He laughs, bright and cheerful (and only a little mock offended), the sound quickly muffled by the press of her lips as he once again cranes up to meet her touch, her warmth. That nip gets a satisfied sort of hiss — it's not often he's on the other side of that particular equation. ]
Not up to your exacting standards, my dear? [ he murmurs, the next time their lips part, his tongue darting over the faint pinpricks of sensation left by her teeth. He sighs, nosing against her pulse, the line of her jaw.
Just as he leans in for another kiss: ]
Two hundred years, gone to waste! What a shame.