What Happens in the Altar ...

He felt her body shift beneath the water, a consequence of the impact of his forceful shove. It put them at a distance again, which Sephiran would allow for now… only because he would use it to his advantage when the time was right. There was no sense in constantly harping over her, because eventually, the intimidation factor would be lost. No, he wanted her to stay on edge. To keep wondering inside of her mind when he would choose to pounce on her again. He wanted to keep her on her toes.

He didn’t look at her when she gave her explanation. Instead, he thought it over in silence, not quite understanding what she meant when she said occultist, druids, or gypsies. Harlots he had heard of before from his father, the others were foreign to him. Still, he connected the dots and figured she was a rogue by nature, and didn’t have a pack to call home. Which would make things easier for him, but not as exciting. “So, you belong to no one." He said, making a statement more than asking a question. It was him musing aloud to himself more than anything. And for her, it would shed light on how the boy interpreted things.

She stated her surname, which was one he had never heard of. Not only that, but it was her mother's. The concept was taboo to the Saxe boy. Irritating even, because he couldn’t conceptualize taking the name of a woman. His gaze shifted towards her then, to catch her looking up at the moon before she asked about his upbringing. He couldn’t help the earsplitting cackle that bubbled from his jaws, lips contorting into a sneer to combat the smirk on her face. “Egotistical?” He sneered, his body shifting so that he was facing her. “Daddy issues?” His body rose slightly, his shoulders breaking the water's surface. To remind her of how large he was compared to her. “If you have not heard of the Saxe lineage, consider yourself favored by whatever gods you believe in.” Though there was a smirk on the boy's face, there was an enormity behind his statement that was not to be mistaken for banter. “"Though, they may have forsaken you now that you’ve met me.” His tongue slipped past his jaws, sliding across his front teeth in a suggestive manner. His patience was starting to wane, as his mind kept generating possibilities of how this night may end. Him, alone with a girl in a hot spring on a calm summer night, with no one to interrupt them.

The possibilities were endless.

"Speech"