giftedthom | (no subject)

If death is my tahlmorra then I accept it. It's a damn sight better than hanging around as bitter, self-centred ku'reshtin whose own arrogance got himself killed!

::snorts:: And what do you call what you just said, if not arrogance?

Realism, perhaps? I won't deny I've got my fair share of arrogance, but at least I don't make other people miserable because of my own mistakes.

Yeah? Nice to know I don't count as people to you, Cat-man.

::balls up a fist and hits Brennan::

::recoils more because of the unexpectedness of the blow than because it really hurts, and reacts almost instinctively, grabbing Thom's arm and spinning him around, shoving him against the wall and holding him there with an arm against his throat::

::hissing:: Right now you're worse than Ihlini to me, and that's something I never thought I'd have to say.

::yelps, startled, and goes perfectly still, glaring::

::hisses:: I have a knack for it.

Get your hands the fuck off me.

::dangerously softly:: Are you going to make me?

Lir-

::sharply:: No, Sleeta. This is my business, not yours.

::narrows his eyes:: Go ahead and try me. It'll make my day.

You want to play at being strong? I've known boys stronger than you are where it really matters. Your magic may be powerful but you're nothing where it counts, Thom.

::stays where he is and speaks again, a challenging note entering his voice::

You really think you can beat me?

::harsh laughter:: There's more to strength than brute force. I have everything that really matters.

You have what? Bitterness? The ability to close yourself off from everyone around you? I wasn't talking about brute strength.

::calmly:: Myself, the Gift, my sister.

Everything that really matters.

::releases him and steps back, shaking his head and looking inexplicably sad::

If that's everything that matters, I'm sorry for you.

::Shakes silently for a moment. Thom's eyes grow ice-cold, strangely out of place in his flushed face. He snarls:: Don't you dare run from me.

I don't want your fucking pity.

::coldly:: Why? Does it mess up the twisted way you like to see the world? Does having someone actually care about what you feel or what happens to you spoil your perception of everyone being completely self-involved ku'reshtin who don't care for anyone but themselves? Maybe you like to think like that, but you can't hide from the truth forever.

You know, that's a very pretty speech, Cat, but no-one ever means those words. ::He points to the door::

So I'd be...obliged...if you'd take your lies, and your nice little ideals, and get them the fuck out of my room and back to your castle in the clouds, where the pack of you belong.

::quietly:: Cat, huh?

::abruptly, a blurring void is where Brennan was, and when it clears, there is a large black mountain cat instead of a man. It stalks slowly towards Thom::

'What do you know of sincerety? What do you know of anything besides your own problems, your own little world where everything is anyone's fault but yours?'

::He is between Thom and the door, and even Sleeta is beginning to look worried::

I know what I've been taught.

::moving oh-so-slowly closer, looking like he's hunting::

'Oh? And what exactly would that be?'

Lir-

'No, Sleeta.'

::a faint violet light appears at his fingertips::

There's no such thing as sorry.

'Going to use your Gift on me? I think not.'

::leaps gracefully and pushes Thom to the floor, pinning him with one paw on his chest and the other at his throat, flexing his claws::

'Very. Bad. Move.'

::Thom cries out when his oft-abused head hits the floor. He swallows, staring up at Brennan::

Bastard.

::sounding almost amused:: 'No, that would be my rujholla.'

::mockingly:: 'What's wrong, Thom? I thought you preferred people to be ku'reshtin, to hurt you, to reaffirm your belief that everyone is against you.'

::lowers his head, opening his mouth and resting his fangs against Thom's throat::

'I'd have thought you'd be used to this.'

::Thom stiffens, but he doesn't look away, or squirm.::

Vulnerability isn't a look he wears well; somehow it always looks like a challenge. Like it says --

Push me.

But what he says, softly, is:: Go on. Prove me right.

::Cat-Brennan watches him for a moment, yellow eyes calculating, then lowers his head to Thom's throat and -

- licks him::