A heartless man lacked the capability to love, to find affection, to treasure anything entirely- but oh, he was certain the notion was within arm’s length every time he saw her alight. It was not her, not those dangerous eyes that sparked and sputtered with a beautiful faux rage- it was the rage embodied. That animosity, that savagery, that was what he might have loved with the correct sort of means. Violence. Insanity veiled carelessly behind sarcasm and bared teeth. She was an explosion, frozen, always on the brink of being fully thawed, and when that happened—
Xigbar liked to push her buttons.
Savage is as savage does. He regarded her coolly, that brimstone-and-fire eye boring into her, trying to see the intricacies of her soul- or the fabricated one she clung to. The corners of his lips remained in place, that grin could never fucking fade; scar marred by the motions, the muscles stretched beneath his skin. Instead, he wondered if he could see the hollow of her chest, the lacking of heart, the emptiness that echoed so vehemently inside all of them.
“Geez,” he chose his words absentmindedly, shrugging his shoulders in accompaniment. Dramatic motions his forte, the gunslinger lifted a finger and waved it at her, as one might when scolding a child. That’s what she was, wasn’t she? Naive and reckless. Ignorant. “Temper, temper, lightning bug~! No need to get your panties in a bunch. Who rained on your parade? Or is it just that time of the month, huh~?”
Her voice came as a warning hiss; it’s pitch nearly rivaling that of over-compressed steam. “Piss off, Xigbar. Before you lose that other eye.” The emphasis on his name set a fire alight in her belly, a surreal imitation of a feeling, an emotion she could no longer feel. Drawn she was, darkness beckoned. Deep within that amber eye she wished for her light to be absorbed. A chill ran down her spine as she shifted her stance, now balancing her weight evenly between either leg.
This was a difficult spot. She loathed him in all absolution but, at the same time fancied his marred entirety. Larxene was torn between a burning desire to shock the male into a state of flat-line and a feral need to be wanted, embraced, to feel the companionship of another. The femme fatale played her hand carefully, taking a few steps and eying her company warily. The light steps coupled with the leery gaze betrayed her prowl. The tigress moved in on it’s prey, but they prey wasn’t quite helpless.
Sure, once she pounced he’d probably thrash about and flail for a few moments. For what little good that would do him anyway, but in the long run she’d stand victorious over her kill. The very kill that would prove to be her sustenance. Losing him meant certain doom. Her fingers curled into fists and slowly straightened out, the digits flexing with the movement. “You’d be into that, wouldn’t you? Being the sick, twisted man you are. Hmm?~”
An all familar deadly smile tugged the corners of her mouth skyward; the huntress bared her fangs.