'Destruction' for Muse Shuffle
Some say you're trouble, boy
Just because you like to destroy
All the things that bring the idiots joy
Well, what's wrong with a little destruction?
Franz Ferdinand - ‘The Fallen’
Mab could always smell the blood on him when he came back from a kill. It wasn’t that he was sloppy, his cleanliness in his hunt neared fanaticism. Moonlight had only caught the smell on him once, head titling, eyes flashing unnaturally bright for a moment, looking like she wished he had brought a thighbone back for her before trotting off to go cuddle with Brennan.
But Mab always knew and because she did, she tried to restrain herself until she knew where his head was at. Tried not to let herself want him as badly as she did when she saw the predator in him. Hard to do when the mingling scents of blood and his excitement made every hormone in her rage. Because he wasn’t a predator like she was, unashamed in it. He loathed himself for what he did. Knew too much about it from the human perspective.
On nights when the loathing won, she was soft, tender. Letting him know he wasn’t alone, that this didn’t decrease how much he was loved. That she understood. Just held him until he could fall into that comfort of sleep and rise to face the next day. On the nights he came back proud and wild, those were the nights she reveled in. They would come together and spend that wildness until they could do nothing but fall, exhausted to the bed. But she wouldn’t give up any of their nights.
The truth is, she saw nothing wrong with what he did. A little more destruction in the universe wasn’t going to destroy everything. His prey was always over the age of consent given where he hunted. And there was so much more blood on her hands, even if most of it could be covered in the fake comfort of being what she had to do to survive and rule her lands. The blood was always there.
Just because you like to destroy
All the things that bring the idiots joy
Well, what's wrong with a little destruction?
Franz Ferdinand - ‘The Fallen’
Mab could always smell the blood on him when he came back from a kill. It wasn’t that he was sloppy, his cleanliness in his hunt neared fanaticism. Moonlight had only caught the smell on him once, head titling, eyes flashing unnaturally bright for a moment, looking like she wished he had brought a thighbone back for her before trotting off to go cuddle with Brennan.
But Mab always knew and because she did, she tried to restrain herself until she knew where his head was at. Tried not to let herself want him as badly as she did when she saw the predator in him. Hard to do when the mingling scents of blood and his excitement made every hormone in her rage. Because he wasn’t a predator like she was, unashamed in it. He loathed himself for what he did. Knew too much about it from the human perspective.
On nights when the loathing won, she was soft, tender. Letting him know he wasn’t alone, that this didn’t decrease how much he was loved. That she understood. Just held him until he could fall into that comfort of sleep and rise to face the next day. On the nights he came back proud and wild, those were the nights she reveled in. They would come together and spend that wildness until they could do nothing but fall, exhausted to the bed. But she wouldn’t give up any of their nights.
The truth is, she saw nothing wrong with what he did. A little more destruction in the universe wasn’t going to destroy everything. His prey was always over the age of consent given where he hunted. And there was so much more blood on her hands, even if most of it could be covered in the fake comfort of being what she had to do to survive and rule her lands. The blood was always there.