[ her reaction is one that he sees enough sense in to be proud of. of course she should be wary. how long has it been since they last saw each other? the days and weeks all bled into one long miserable nightmare for him, but here? there are other things to worry about besides a perhaps dead prince. like safety. like the citizens. like ravka.
all things that he's managed to monumentally botch before even fitting a crown on his head. it sits in the center of his chest, this bitter truth that he can't manage to keep down. there are so many things he always imagined would stand in his way to the throne, but never once did he consider it might be himself. not until now.
he thinks of what he can say to reassure her. he doesn't have a weapon, but he doesn't need one when there's a monster swimming in his blood. anything he says could be the beast instead, dropping flowery words to lure her in before sinking needle-sharp teeth into the part of her throat he used to kiss. she's right to behave this way. it's clever and it's necessary.
it stings. he swallows it down — his pride, his need for attention, his every-present yearning for validation that he constantly gives to himself because he can't get it from anyone else, whatever it is. this isn't the time or place for any of it. he rubs a hand over his face again, catching another glimpse of the spidery black scars stemming from his fingertips. they'll fade. probably. ]
It's not a trap. But it's likely that I am still dangerous.
[ he might be human again, but he feels the darkness in him like a second skin. it's still there, strong as ever. tentatively, he pushes to his feet, slipping the sleeves of his coat on. ]
Handy that I gave this to you, isn't it? [ he tries for a smile. he means it to be easy, perhaps a bit debonair to inject some levity into the atmosphere, but it turns out there's still far too much emotion trying to wrestle its way out of his throat, so comes out boyish and sincere instead, his eyes catching a bit of the light. ] Stay sharp, Alina. You might have to kill me.
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all things that he's managed to monumentally botch before even fitting a crown on his head. it sits in the center of his chest, this bitter truth that he can't manage to keep down. there are so many things he always imagined would stand in his way to the throne, but never once did he consider it might be himself. not until now.
he thinks of what he can say to reassure her. he doesn't have a weapon, but he doesn't need one when there's a monster swimming in his blood. anything he says could be the beast instead, dropping flowery words to lure her in before sinking needle-sharp teeth into the part of her throat he used to kiss. she's right to behave this way. it's clever and it's necessary.
it stings. he swallows it down — his pride, his need for attention, his every-present yearning for validation that he constantly gives to himself because he can't get it from anyone else, whatever it is. this isn't the time or place for any of it. he rubs a hand over his face again, catching another glimpse of the spidery black scars stemming from his fingertips. they'll fade. probably. ]
It's not a trap. But it's likely that I am still dangerous.
[ he might be human again, but he feels the darkness in him like a second skin. it's still there, strong as ever. tentatively, he pushes to his feet, slipping the sleeves of his coat on. ]
Handy that I gave this to you, isn't it? [ he tries for a smile. he means it to be easy, perhaps a bit debonair to inject some levity into the atmosphere, but it turns out there's still far too much emotion trying to wrestle its way out of his throat, so comes out boyish and sincere instead, his eyes catching a bit of the light. ] Stay sharp, Alina. You might have to kill me.