[ self-sufficiency is a pipe dream, he wants to say. at least when the world is the way that it is, but where would that kind of argument get him?
anyway, this human apparently likes to talk – or maybe it's hear the sound of his own voice – and that's fine with him. it means he doesn't have to say much in return and only needs to respond when prompted. it allows him a moment to reset, ignoring the whistle and then the sudden shift in proximity where he can practically taste the beat of his heart in his mouth. he can smell him too, the scent of something deep and earthy beneath the sweat and sloughed emotions that continue to hang over him. adrenaline, fear, excitement, amusement. larus tries to focus on saying anything to keep his mind from wandering too far. ]
Then I hope you find them. [ a blatant pause. ] If they're not dead.
[ and while he's at it, he maneuvers away from him so there's still some vague illusion of space separating him. until he takes it upon himself to touch casimir instead—just the edge of his thumb over the swell of his knuckles. like he's feeling the bruise. like he can imagine what had sparked his frustration in the first place. ]
I can't say I've ever let something like that build in me before. [ once, a long time ago. then sun had turned him, and that had been that. ] I do things when necessary. I hit, I break, I kill — it doesn't matter to me since it's all the same. [ a feigned breath, and he drops his hand into his lap. ] I'm guessing you beat the tree and won.
[ a once in a lifetime joke that's offered with the slightest smile. ]
They're not dead. [ a hint of steel appears in his tone when he says it this time, his gray eyes meeting larus' as if to cement the truth of this statement. then his mouth curves into a smile, his features relaxing. ] You can meet them later.
[ the gentle brush isn't enough to truly delve into larus' mind, instead just feeling a faint wash of hunger prickle over his skin. it's expected for a vampire. casimir doesn't particularly like reading the thoughts of the dead, most of their minds having been debased by the twin traumas of death and bloodlust, but there's a guise of calm in larus, a shield so carefully placed that he almost doesn't notice how thin it is. almost. ]
Hit, break, kill. Can fuck be added to your list? [ he grins, sitting back against the wall and fluidly twirling a small blade over his bruised knuckles and between his fingers, watching as the silver glints in the shadows. ] I do look better than the tree. Than all trees, really.
[ he lapses into silence until his blade stills, held between two fingers as his eyes lift to the shuttered windows. ]
Why are you alone? [ he crosses his legs, leaning forward as he rests his hands over his knees. ] Why not with your nest? I told you what I was doing. It's only polite to return the favor.
[ their eyes only meet briefly, but it's mostly to show his displeasure.
he doesn't actually want to meet anyone—now or later. but if it's something that casimir needs to believe, then larus isn't going to correct him. there are other things to focus on anyway, unsure how to take that question – is fucking added to the list? – and remaining silent about it as he watches him. besides, humans and their weapons are oddly funny to him now, like they're searching for some sort of leverage where there is none. casimir makes it look like an art, a skill that might have been useful had a blade been any danger to a vampire. ]
I'm not adding anything to the list. [ not with him. not now. larus moves back, settling into a comfortable lean that isn't directed towards casimir. ] And there is no nest. I'm alone because I like it that way.
[ which actually says nothing about what he's doing, and being honest like that, with a stranger... well, it shouldn't matter. there's a higher chance of casimir dying once he steps outside the door when night falls than spilling whatever secrets larus harbors. so, he shakes his head a little. ]
I'm looking for someone – a vampire. [ and for even more clarification: ] I want to kill him.
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anyway, this human apparently likes to talk – or maybe it's hear the sound of his own voice – and that's fine with him. it means he doesn't have to say much in return and only needs to respond when prompted. it allows him a moment to reset, ignoring the whistle and then the sudden shift in proximity where he can practically taste the beat of his heart in his mouth. he can smell him too, the scent of something deep and earthy beneath the sweat and sloughed emotions that continue to hang over him. adrenaline, fear, excitement, amusement. larus tries to focus on saying anything to keep his mind from wandering too far. ]
Then I hope you find them. [ a blatant pause. ] If they're not dead.
[ and while he's at it, he maneuvers away from him so there's still some vague illusion of space separating him. until he takes it upon himself to touch casimir instead—just the edge of his thumb over the swell of his knuckles. like he's feeling the bruise. like he can imagine what had sparked his frustration in the first place. ]
I can't say I've ever let something like that build in me before. [ once, a long time ago. then sun had turned him, and that had been that. ] I do things when necessary. I hit, I break, I kill — it doesn't matter to me since it's all the same. [ a feigned breath, and he drops his hand into his lap. ] I'm guessing you beat the tree and won.
[ a once in a lifetime joke that's offered with the slightest smile. ]
no subject
[ the gentle brush isn't enough to truly delve into larus' mind, instead just feeling a faint wash of hunger prickle over his skin. it's expected for a vampire. casimir doesn't particularly like reading the thoughts of the dead, most of their minds having been debased by the twin traumas of death and bloodlust, but there's a guise of calm in larus, a shield so carefully placed that he almost doesn't notice how thin it is. almost. ]
Hit, break, kill. Can fuck be added to your list? [ he grins, sitting back against the wall and fluidly twirling a small blade over his bruised knuckles and between his fingers, watching as the silver glints in the shadows. ] I do look better than the tree. Than all trees, really.
[ he lapses into silence until his blade stills, held between two fingers as his eyes lift to the shuttered windows. ]
Why are you alone? [ he crosses his legs, leaning forward as he rests his hands over his knees. ] Why not with your nest? I told you what I was doing. It's only polite to return the favor.
no subject
he doesn't actually want to meet anyone—now or later. but if it's something that casimir needs to believe, then larus isn't going to correct him. there are other things to focus on anyway, unsure how to take that question – is fucking added to the list? – and remaining silent about it as he watches him. besides, humans and their weapons are oddly funny to him now, like they're searching for some sort of leverage where there is none. casimir makes it look like an art, a skill that might have been useful had a blade been any danger to a vampire. ]
I'm not adding anything to the list. [ not with him. not now. larus moves back, settling into a comfortable lean that isn't directed towards casimir. ] And there is no nest. I'm alone because I like it that way.
[ which actually says nothing about what he's doing, and being honest like that, with a stranger... well, it shouldn't matter. there's a higher chance of casimir dying once he steps outside the door when night falls than spilling whatever secrets larus harbors. so, he shakes his head a little. ]
I'm looking for someone – a vampire. [ and for even more clarification: ] I want to kill him.