#asks: shxdim

[serpixnte-blog]

casually gonna lean on his snek cousin yas~

Gonna casually fumble with her fingers because oh look person that she’s kind of related to but didn’t remember until just recently.

“Aha-- Mordred, I hope that you’ve been well.”

Gonna just... pat his shoulder. There there. Hello.

[ofthedamnedd-blog]

❝I will systematically destroy everything they hold dear.❞ — your sister's bae~~~

██ meme: accepting

Malice took a firm hold of the corners of his lips and thrust them upward in a violent expression of joy. It had been years since Angel displayed the appropriate reactions to very serious situations. So it was hardly worthy of note now when faced with probable danger that he respond with excitement. The certain glee of an infant present across his facial features, lighting up his face, as the familiar emotions of rage and exhilaration mingled within his person.

Many (often successful) attempts had been made to ridicule Mordred since their first meeting, since Angel first caught his lingering glance rest on Angel’s own precious baby sister. It could be said that Angel was not quite fond of the haughty Lord Mordred Orland – the title itself was laughable – and had made various efforts to test the demon Lord of Sabertooth. It had been a fun affair to engage in even if it would at some point result in bodily harm – especially if it would result in bodily harm. How very enticing that would be!

What was worthy of acknowledgment was the stubborn set of the demon’s jaw as he spoke words to no one in particular. The words, he suspected, were not particularly meant for Angel’s ears, but more so a verbal promise of future harm. A promise of future harm surely in the name of their one shared interest: Yukino. Even if they had sufficient proof that Yukino herself returned without permanent harm. 

Curious indeed, that the man would react so strongly to his dear sister’s harm. And all the more with the promise of violence! Perhaps there was something to be liked about him, after all! What an idea!

“Brilliant suggestion, Mordred.” To hell with honorifics. Angel bowed to no God but the God of Death himself (and he welcomed the idea of being punished by him). Angel clicked his tongue in a gesture of finality, having just made up his own mind. “Shall we get to it, then? The day drags on and there are bones to be broken, terror to inflict. Busy, busy, busy.”

[helxel-blog]

"I need you."

The woman was still a ball of barely restrained rage. The pathetic scum that had occupied the ballrooms for that night had been able to slink off to safety after the Princess herself had interrupted Yukino in the middle of her warning. The threat, in her opinion, was not enough and had so proceeded to demonstrating just how seriously she expected him to take her. But she could not continue such a display in front of the more genteel sensibilities of the princess.

To see red. It was during moments like these that she had a true understanding of the term, of wanting no more than to inflict pain and draw forth a great deal of blood as a result. She wanted that man’s life for causing such discomfort upon Hisui. 

He’d only furthered the insult by demeaning her rank. Oh how satisfying it would have been to demonstrate what General Aguria was capable of. How few reasons he’d given her to release her death-grip on his pathetic throat.

Fists still clenched at her sides, she turned to him, ready to give her complaint. The likes of which fell from her lips half formed. “Mordred, now is not the tim– what?” 

[penchantforviolence-blog]

“I don’t want to fucking talk about that anymore.”

█ ▓  m e m e ► accepting

“As you wish.” 

A contradiction – hands raised in mock surrender, while she spoke words meant to accompany the action, yet lacked any trace of remorse. Because there was none. A survival instinct long since beaten into her told her not to push. She knew when his anger benefited her, and when it didn’t. 

   (Not that either was particularly frightening to her.           She understood anger, was moved by it, and often… she craved it.)

Even now, she’d relent on her own terms, in her own fashion. There was no effort put forth to mask the slight arch of her eyebrow as she looked at him, a slanted tilt to her lips. She was curious, if slightly amused, and attentive as ever.

Fire hadn’t scared her in years. Instead, she found herself begging for the burn, the ache to remind her she was alive. Even if for a short while.

“Whatever you say, Mordred.”

[helxel-blog]

He didn’t know what she had dreamed of, only that it had to be terrible in order to make her react so strongly. In all the time the two had been… involved, Mordred hadn’t known Yukino to wake up in tears that often. At least not when he was there beside her. (Which, admittingly, was still a new development that he wasn’t ready to think too hard on yet.) And yet, here she was, trying to muffle the sobs, possibly so she didn’t wake him up.

Unfortunately for that plan, he hadn’t fallen asleep yet.

Sitting up fully, Mordred reached for his lover, aiming to pull her into his arms. “Shhh… It’s okay love, you’re safe.” Unless, of course, she had been dreaming about what his hands could do — had done — to her. In which case… he was probably making things worse. Fuck…

Fire.

The sun so bright in the sky. It was a warm day.

She remembered it so vividly, as if the flames still reached to caress her pale skin. The sun’s palm set on the earth, catching fire to all it touched. She quickly learned that this was the price of mortality being granted access to the divine, turning it into something hideous.

Her skin coated with goosebumps as a result of being launched into the past. Shaking, crying -- both things that contrasted the reality of that day, of the after of it all.

Such a beautiful summer day, but the earth wasn’t ever meant to wield the power of the God in the sky. The smoke had choked her, the fire had burned all the flowers she’d loved, and man had taken the only person she’d ever loved.

Until--

“NO!”

Her throat ached with the memory of smoke-filled lungs. Her movements were fast, abrupt, as she scrambled away, remembering the hands that had set fire to her life.

[helxel-blog]

“Well, well. My night just got better.” — shxdim (did you REALLY think I wouldn't send him in~?)

✰ //. accepting

Typically his commentary went unanswered, or ignored depending on the day. Yukino felt no need to answer things that didn’t deserve an answer. Waste of breath, really. And energy.

But there she was, suppressing the smirk that tugged, knowing better than to play with him but not caring enough to hold back the comment. 

“Didn’t know your mood depended so heavily on my presence, Mordred.”

She knew it didn’t, Mordred Orland waited on no one, and that was precisely why she took the opening.

[helxel-blog]

“I’m still breathing.”

✰ //. accepting

It was with a heavy heart that she looked over in the direction of the familiar voice, head shooting up from where it had been in her hands. It took several tries to clear the tears that hindered her vision. Oh, but when she did–

There was a broken cry trapped in her throat, unable to fully form, something desperate and void of life. A death rattle, for without him she had been as close to death as he had. No injury endured had taken such a toll as the possibility of losing him for good had.

When she smiled (she was distantly aware of the familiar stretch of her chapped lips) she tasted the salt from the tears she had not cared to acknowledge as they slid down her face. It had not mattered. Nothing had. For as long as she had sat there waiting, it had only been his continued breathing that had kept her from falling apart completely.

As long as he kept fighting–

Never in all her days had she claimed allegiance to any one religion, one belief, other than the belief in strength, resilience, endurance, and the certainty of what she could touch with her own hand. To see had always been to believe.

One life, one boy. That’s all it had taken to make a believer and beggar of her. Down on her knees, praying to Gods she didn’t believe in and begging that they not take him.

        Live.         Live.         Live.                              Oh God, please live!

If only they should give him one more day– that’s all. At least one more day, one last glimpse of those beautiful green eyes, and she would pay the price, swear her allegiances, giver her own life in exchange for his!

…

             And there he was.

                              Breathing.

One hand pressed to his chest, needing to feel the reassurance of a heartbeat. She wasn’t imagining this.

“M-Mordr– I–.” She damned the words that would not come, syllables clawing up her narrow throat but not having the strength to finish their journey. If she’d ever had any strength at all he had taken it; she’d given it all in her wait.

“Y-Yes.”

[helxel-blog]

honestly thinks those dresses would look better on his bedroom floor~~~~~ ;3333

She can’t wear dresses around him because he likes her body.She can’t wear white because he enjoys the silent humor in her doing so.She can’t wear black because he loves when she’s honest.She can’t wear uniform because he loves the idea of her taking charge.

Basically everything leads to hey girl

[helxel-blog]

Here, have a certain god of war mage slipping up behind her. "Snowflake~~" Arms moving around to pull her closer, one hand slipping under the hem of her skirt. "Hello there, love~"

Here, have have a certain celestial mage’s hand reaching to grab at one of his, fingers firm but not restraining. A warning in her tone. “Mordred-sama, this is hardly the time or place.”

The angle of his approach was to her benefit, that way he would be unable to see the struggle against the slight smile that tugged at her lip. There was no time for that, she internally chided. No matter the satisfaction she felt whenever he did approach her.

[helxel-blog]

A low laugh was given in response to her words, pure amusement in the sound. "It seems you do that quite well, love~" Moving in, he pressed his mouth against her jaw. "And... honestly...? I'm not... complaining~"

Something inside her stirred at the sound, relishing it. Who knew that could be so impossibly…attractive. And he obviously was. But it wasn’t always the physical things, his outward appearance, the obvious that made her breath catch. 

It wasn’t his voice but the underlying meaning behind his words, the promise of violence with every syllable. It wasn’t his body but the raw passion and drive packed into it, the way he wore his skin, the gestures that made him…him. It wasn’t his hands but the way he’d brushed his so gently against her face, when she knew those same hands have ended lives. It wasn’t his mouth but the way it now pressed to her skin, when he could just as easily have any other.

“That’s. . .good to hear,” she breathes, voice lower than before, slightly distracted by his proximity. 

[helxel-blog]

Oh yes, this was nice~ Grinning almost wickedly, Mordred kept close as she spoke. "There's my /tigress/~" He did love it when she showed that fire, the fire that got her into Sabertooth. The fire that saved him from death, when he knew he deserved worse.

There was no arrangement of words that could properly describe how that particular nickname made her feel. A confirmation by his own mouth that she was one of them. That she, simple girl that she was, was maybe worthy company. 

Lips turned in a different sort of expression, a touch of mischief to that smile. “Someone here has got to keep up with you.”