controlme
/ late but cb n specify n maybe drop love u
controlme
necromanics
would you remain still? * her hands pressed more firmly as she worked, fingers steady despite the slick of blood. * i am not yet done tending to your wounds. you must be sound of mind or perhaps lacking it—to have placed yourself in such danger.
controlme
@necromanics [Only when she turns away does he stop drawing. He recognizes the anger in her tone and the insult to his humanity, and while they don’t impact his opinion, he doesn’t respond to defend himself. He lifts his hand, looking over the face he sketched before putting his pencil down beside him. His shoulder throbs, yet his composure remains intact. Like a dog would, he cranes his neck to sniff at the ointment she covered his wound in. It doesn’t raise questions.] Bring a pen.
necromanics
ID: @controlme * steady hands halted at the sound of him speaking. gilded frustration nestled between her furrowed brows, written plainly across her face. * well, forgive me for not being as heartless as you appear. i thought myself more human. * the words slipped past her tongue. she pressed the cool ointment against the stitched skin of the back of his shoulder, dabbing carefully at the seeping edges with a cloth. his skin glowed red and swollen, yet relief washed over her as the bleeding came under control. * do not move your arm so freely, or it will stretch the stitches. * putting the items aside, she rose slightly, gathering a few things to clear the space beside the fire where she had been sitting. the flames flickered across her face, warming her as she worked. * stay here and do not move; i will bring you something to eat.
controlme
@necromanics [He doesn’t listen. His arm flexes beneath her touch as the hand attached to it draws in his sketchbook, uncaring for the blood he smears onto the paper. His voice is flat.] You cannot complain about what you insisted on.
necromanics
you have that [look] of madness in your eyes again.
controlme
@necromanics [He replies without tone.] You’re looking for it. [It isn’t an accusation; more so an observation. That’s clear not in the way he speaks, but of what he allows, maintaining eye contact so she can continue her looking.]