[Dorian almost lets out a derisive laugh, short and hollow, at the notion that Larus is being cagey with him to protect him. But that's what each of them has been doing all along for the other, isn't it? That's crystal clear to him now. So rather than laugh, the words register with a little stab of dread, something only reinforced by Larus telling him he cares, which smooths quickly into the heaviness of resignation. This is happening, then. It's real, and there's no taking it back.
He's falling.
Time and time again, isn't it? After Lucifer, wearing Toby's face, held him suspended by his neck over the cliff side at Whitby, he would have sworn this would never happen again. Heart of stone, but a sensitive soul. Other people just keep slipping into his endless, immortal life and catching him by surprise. A shiver runs up his spine as his gaze crawls all over the face of the man standing before him. Comes to fix on deep blue, soulful eyes.
In a last bid of resistance to his own feelings, his own thoughts, Dorian pushes against the hold on one of his wrists, reaching out to wrap fingers around Larus' throat-- partially over the mark that ties them together. He squeezes, but it's a warning and bid to hold him off, rather than an attempt to hurt. (Not this again. Anything but this.)]
You'd be better off if you were heartless. [It would make things so much easier between them. For himself. He'd hardly care if Larus truly was something more like him-- just some other monster. Driven by the darkness and unrepentant of the leaving of it in his wake.
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He's falling.
Time and time again, isn't it? After Lucifer, wearing Toby's face, held him suspended by his neck over the cliff side at Whitby, he would have sworn this would never happen again. Heart of stone, but a sensitive soul. Other people just keep slipping into his endless, immortal life and catching him by surprise. A shiver runs up his spine as his gaze crawls all over the face of the man standing before him. Comes to fix on deep blue, soulful eyes.
In a last bid of resistance to his own feelings, his own thoughts, Dorian pushes against the hold on one of his wrists, reaching out to wrap fingers around Larus' throat-- partially over the mark that ties them together. He squeezes, but it's a warning and bid to hold him off, rather than an attempt to hurt. (Not this again. Anything but this.)]
You'd be better off if you were heartless. [It would make things so much easier between them. For himself. He'd hardly care if Larus truly was something more like him-- just some other monster. Driven by the darkness and unrepentant of the leaving of it in his wake.
Instead, he's compelled.]