There are few who have ever tipped the scales quite so neatly, so efficiently, on a man like him. Tyki is not so precious about control — the matter is an issue of circumstance and power, because few in the world can face a Noah and emerge with their life intact, least of all upon Joyd's evocation. Yet it has caught a scent it cannot seem to ignore, and Tyki feels the tremor of its bloodlust and excitement in the slither of spiny tendrils pressed to sun-browned skin, a reptile's thieving warmth from some other hot-blooded species.
The fear is an absent space in him as he is led along, directed into the elevator, treated as one might a lady on a night out. His confidence hardly suffers any sort of emasculation, but the smile that stretches his own dark mouth is — strained, pinched, a line of teeth grit together against Joyd's wild thrashing under skin and what appears to be the effusive threat laid between them.]
It feels like you're trying to intimidate me, [out of a raspy throat] into obedience. I'm afraid your intentions are misplaced. I'm not the one you should be worried about. And what I am isn't something that can be so easily reasoned with, but I like the effort. Rather spirited.
[Something about this youthful stranger reminds him of the General Cross Marian — far less in demeanor and looks than in the flex of strength demonstrated, a core of power beyond ordinary, inhuman and unknown. Tyki is not so concerned with supernatural elements in the resort, devised by handsome teenagers or otherwise planted; he is more preoccupied with how it will trigger Joyd, as has happened now against his will quite publicly. How frustrating.
More long-standing guests board the elevator alongside them — Tyki's expression further folds as he feels Joyd's interior distaste for this personal intrusion, rattling like a snake around the prize of that muscular arm and cinching bloodlessly tighter. A yank pulls the stranger snug in against his side.
Tyki, laughing to play it off —]
The gardens, you said? What a romantic idea. I haven't seen them yet myself, but I heard they're breathtaking at night. [The most indulgent smack of a kiss to one of Getou's cheeks.] You think of everything, darling.
no subject
There are few who have ever tipped the scales quite so neatly, so efficiently, on a man like him. Tyki is not so precious about control — the matter is an issue of circumstance and power, because few in the world can face a Noah and emerge with their life intact, least of all upon Joyd's evocation. Yet it has caught a scent it cannot seem to ignore, and Tyki feels the tremor of its bloodlust and excitement in the slither of spiny tendrils pressed to sun-browned skin, a reptile's thieving warmth from some other hot-blooded species.
The fear is an absent space in him as he is led along, directed into the elevator, treated as one might a lady on a night out. His confidence hardly suffers any sort of emasculation, but the smile that stretches his own dark mouth is — strained, pinched, a line of teeth grit together against Joyd's wild thrashing under skin and what appears to be the effusive threat laid between them.]
It feels like you're trying to intimidate me, [out of a raspy throat] into obedience. I'm afraid your intentions are misplaced. I'm not the one you should be worried about. And what I am isn't something that can be so easily reasoned with, but I like the effort. Rather spirited.
[Something about this youthful stranger reminds him of the General Cross Marian — far less in demeanor and looks than in the flex of strength demonstrated, a core of power beyond ordinary, inhuman and unknown. Tyki is not so concerned with supernatural elements in the resort, devised by handsome teenagers or otherwise planted; he is more preoccupied with how it will trigger Joyd, as has happened now against his will quite publicly. How frustrating.
More long-standing guests board the elevator alongside them — Tyki's expression further folds as he feels Joyd's interior distaste for this personal intrusion, rattling like a snake around the prize of that muscular arm and cinching bloodlessly tighter. A yank pulls the stranger snug in against his side.
Tyki, laughing to play it off —]
The gardens, you said? What a romantic idea. I haven't seen them yet myself, but I heard they're breathtaking at night. [The most indulgent smack of a kiss to one of Getou's cheeks.] You think of everything, darling.