Skeleton in the Closet

Basilisk had wanted so badly to claim her as his own when he'd found her as a child. She had been alone and so inherently trusting, but he had not found it within himself to harm her, to corrupt her. But things were so much different now. He had been abandoned -- and he had lost everything. Hatred had found its way into his heart and it was there to stay. Purple gaze remained fixated on her as she slid from the depths of the water, watching him with obvious interest. They had met again, when she was older, but things had been so much different then. He had been weak. A slight smirk toyed at his lips, his tail twitching behind him as he studied her.

'My purple knight,' she began, and he felt a low chuckle bubbling up within his throat. He was a knight now? Basilisk had told her once before that he wasn't the kind of knight she could ever want -- and things had only changed for the worse. "Odette," he answered in turn, tones low but audible as he stood his ground, not yet approaching her. At their first meeting, he knew he had seemed so strong and so dangerous to her -- but considerably less so at their second meeting. And now he didn't feel necessarily strong, simply reckless and suddenly amused at how she looked at him with so much need. He had never felt what it was like to be needed, or even wanted; he was usually on the other side of things. It sent a pleasant shiver down his spine and his tail began to wave from side to side in long, slow sweeps. "It has been so long." The brute wore a dangerous smirk, painting his rugged features with a mysterious kind of amusement.