My last girl was practice for the real thing baby

É r e b o s

for a moment, panic wanted to wash over him but he sustains his natural rhythm of precise containment. why not even the essence of love or the potential thereof could make him lost in any facet. he was an ambitious individual, finding his admirations to be more on women in power. hence widow.. but fic? he had no excuses for. sure, his choices were tainted with selfishness and the desire to advance at all costs. but who's wasn't? he saw medusa as an opportunity to strategically advance his bloodline & political status. she was an ideal partner you see. he simply embraced it.. and did that make him bad? he was confident medusa's abstract style of thought did not partake in the norm. did not have the commoners superstitions or insecurities, and even precautions. and maybe this was too much of a trueness,- for as he stood here confessing to this woman, she somehow failed to understand without the help of her companion who chimed in abruptly before drifting away again. glancing at umbra then at medusa again, Érebos slowly sat himself.
he watched her patiently as she fought to understand the meaning of his words, her expressions tied in and over as she finally did settle to his notion. she stammered her words some more, expressing that no one had ever told her such a thing. this in turn fueled his desires even more, as Érebos adored things that were never broken into in the first place. a man who liked things untouched and in sense, medusa was virgin to the idea of love. "Then let me be your first." he spoke, concise and bold as he watched her. his eyes skimming over her face and gliding over her dainty piercings. medusa's style was not what he imagined to adore, but he arrived here anyway. their compatibility showed for itself, returning to a queen he challenged the day they met. she birthed in him respect that wasn't there prior to their initial meet that day. but somewhere along the lines, it sprung forth his selective choice to pursue her tonight. nearly a year he's known medusa and they still didn't know much about one another in ways he preferred they did.
he would then bolt towards her with his wide angular maw, his mouth parting as he suddenly aimed to plant a kiss on her lips, his eyes glazing over with heavy lids as he fell into it had she allowed him to. pulling back to gaze into her sapphire pools once more, Érebos dunamis awaited whatever would come next. be It a slap or succession.