[ the challenging arch to her eyebrow distracts her from the sudden, skittish stutter of her pulse. she isn't quite ready to let nikolai's perceptive eyes analyze her work for fear of what he may find of her own secrets hidden away in every brushstroke, the raw truths it could expose — the complex emotions he stirs in her, and the way she sees him, chief among them.
it's a far cry from the demeaning words he uses to define himself, as though he's collected every insult given to him and kept it close. difficult. mongrel. bastard. it challenges what she thought she knew of him, of the overly confident aura he projects. the twinkle of humor drains from her eyes as her chest constricts with a pang of sympathy, left to wonder if so very few people have reminded him that he has value beyond his namesake. ]
That's a cruel thing for someone to say about their own child, by the way. You must be the only good thing that ever came out of the Lantsov household. [ it's impossible to miss the angry pinch to her mouth, the tightness in her jaw, as she stands and crosses the room in just a few strides. ] If you were wondering, you're the right kind of difficult for me.
[ a few stray strands of silver spill into her eyes when she bends to wrap her fingers around the nape of his neck. she won't admit to either of them that it's only an excuse to touch him under the guise of gauging his comfort after maintaining one pose for so long, kneading firm fingertips into the muscle there in search of knots. ]
Sobachka. Did they try to send you to obedience training? [ for his sake, she attempts a half-hearted, teasing smile. ] I hear that's what they do with puppies, especially the difficult ones.
no subject
[ the challenging arch to her eyebrow distracts her from the sudden, skittish stutter of her pulse. she isn't quite ready to let nikolai's perceptive eyes analyze her work for fear of what he may find of her own secrets hidden away in every brushstroke, the raw truths it could expose — the complex emotions he stirs in her, and the way she sees him, chief among them.
it's a far cry from the demeaning words he uses to define himself, as though he's collected every insult given to him and kept it close. difficult. mongrel. bastard. it challenges what she thought she knew of him, of the overly confident aura he projects. the twinkle of humor drains from her eyes as her chest constricts with a pang of sympathy, left to wonder if so very few people have reminded him that he has value beyond his namesake. ]
That's a cruel thing for someone to say about their own child, by the way. You must be the only good thing that ever came out of the Lantsov household. [ it's impossible to miss the angry pinch to her mouth, the tightness in her jaw, as she stands and crosses the room in just a few strides. ] If you were wondering, you're the right kind of difficult for me.
[ a few stray strands of silver spill into her eyes when she bends to wrap her fingers around the nape of his neck. she won't admit to either of them that it's only an excuse to touch him under the guise of gauging his comfort after maintaining one pose for so long, kneading firm fingertips into the muscle there in search of knots. ]
Sobachka. Did they try to send you to obedience training? [ for his sake, she attempts a half-hearted, teasing smile. ] I hear that's what they do with puppies, especially the difficult ones.