[ The bitter smell of the smoke invades the air, making Richard to wrinkle his nose. It truly felt like the time has stopped within the room, capturing them in this small agonizing and frozen world void of any warmth. There is still some blood gleaming on the knife, the crimson drops slowly dripping along the sides of the blade to the carpet beneath Richard's feet. It's the same blood that is marking Silco's neck and collar of shirt. The mismatched eyes followed the trail of the stains, anxiety setting on his face as he tried to see whether there his fingers had left any bruises on his skin.
Richard remained mute as he watched his lover to force his body and mind under his control once again. The anger is understandable and he can't fault the other man for it, he'd probably react similarly, too. And despite being the one holding the knife, seething fury reflected behind that burning gaze left him unarmed and weak. The merciless tone of the command stabs him like a dagger and Richard can't keep the pained guilt out of his face as his brows knit in a saddened frown.
He parts his lips but his voice fails him yet again. So, he casts his gaze down on the floor and turns around. With his back turned at the other man he places the dagger back on the desk and begins to button the front of his dress.]
Understood. [His voice sounds so distant and cold even his own ears. Non-confrontational, almost submissive even. With the buttons done he reaches to grab the cloak off the desk and throws it around his shoulders, hiding away once again.]
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2025-01-08 03:45 am (UTC)Richard remained mute as he watched his lover to force his body and mind under his control once again. The anger is understandable and he can't fault the other man for it, he'd probably react similarly, too. And despite being the one holding the knife, seething fury reflected behind that burning gaze left him unarmed and weak. The merciless tone of the command stabs him like a dagger and Richard can't keep the pained guilt out of his face as his brows knit in a saddened frown.
He parts his lips but his voice fails him yet again. So, he casts his gaze down on the floor and turns around. With his back turned at the other man he places the dagger back on the desk and begins to button the front of his dress.]
Understood. [His voice sounds so distant and cold even his own ears. Non-confrontational, almost submissive even. With the buttons done he reaches to grab the cloak off the desk and throws it around his shoulders, hiding away once again.]