"You cannot talk me into feeling anything in return." Zevran snapped. He'd been calm- cordial, even. Some might even call it kind how gently he was attempting to treat this. But the words, the reminders of the supposed power he held over Michel, the circling of identities-
'This is what I am, no one else will have me. No one else knows me like you do, no one else matters like you do'
Words, promises, grasping things to hook him in until he was tied down. At least with Michel it might be figurative rather than literal; Taliesin had never been much a man for figurative measures when the literal worked so much better.
Perhaps he did not see Michel truly at the moment, he saw broader shoulders and a sharper jaw, darker eyes that always seemed so kind, seemed so honest when time had proved the opposite over and over. "You love a mask."
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'This is what I am, no one else will have me. No one else knows me like you do, no one else matters like you do'
Words, promises, grasping things to hook him in until he was tied down. At least with Michel it might be figurative rather than literal; Taliesin had never been much a man for figurative measures when the literal worked so much better.
Perhaps he did not see Michel truly at the moment, he saw broader shoulders and a sharper jaw, darker eyes that always seemed so kind, seemed so honest when time had proved the opposite over and over. "You love a mask."