But, Elysium would agree. A little blood, broken bones. They all heal up given enough time, mercurial. Most would argue that the psychological aftereffects of being put into such a position is where the permanence lies, though for someone who's lacking in the self-preservation department, there's… less of an emphasis on both.
Tangentially, if Callisto retains any curiosity over Elysium's condition, a row of black crystals can be seen bisecting across the front of his belly all the way to the side of the midsection of his torso. Even in their dim setting, it catches light, gleams dangerously. Much like Elysium's current demeanour—placid, with an undercurrent of something that could lash out, but won't.
As if this display of restraint is just another aspect to lord over the prince himself, further emboldened by the contact of harsh leather against skin. ]
You say that as if you've done anything to warrant the respect of one. Even the title of 'clown prince' is ill-befitting when your humour is as lousy as it is.
[ For a brief second, Elysium's expression does tense, instinctual. And yet, it eases within the next moment as the sensation recedes into a dull reminder, and he looks none worse for wear. ]
Wow. You're an actual lunatic. If I could clap for you, I would.
[ A low, mockingly impressed whistle graces Callisto's efforts in its place. It's one thing to make a threat; it's another to go through with it. ]
Is all this really over a rejected kiss…? [ damn. ]
us at our work meetings:
But, Elysium would agree. A little blood, broken bones. They all heal up given enough time, mercurial. Most would argue that the psychological aftereffects of being put into such a position is where the permanence lies, though for someone who's lacking in the self-preservation department, there's… less of an emphasis on both.
Tangentially, if Callisto retains any curiosity over Elysium's condition, a row of black crystals can be seen bisecting across the front of his belly all the way to the side of the midsection of his torso. Even in their dim setting, it catches light, gleams dangerously. Much like Elysium's current demeanour—placid, with an undercurrent of something that could lash out, but won't.
As if this display of restraint is just another aspect to lord over the prince himself, further emboldened by the contact of harsh leather against skin. ]
You say that as if you've done anything to warrant the respect of one. Even the title of 'clown prince' is ill-befitting when your humour is as lousy as it is.
[ For a brief second, Elysium's expression does tense, instinctual. And yet, it eases within the next moment as the sensation recedes into a dull reminder, and he looks none worse for wear. ]
Wow. You're an actual lunatic. If I could clap for you, I would.
[ A low, mockingly impressed whistle graces Callisto's efforts in its place. It's one thing to make a threat; it's another to go through with it. ]
Is all this really over a rejected kiss…? [ damn. ]