cw violence

( the thin strand holding him together snaps. his fangs fill his mouth, their points sharpening and lengthening in time with the thud of his pulse. gold flecks emerge in his irises before consuming every hue of blue. it's the taunt in her tone, beckoning his wrath, the presumption of her opinions —

and it's that, truly, that strikes his ire irreparably: so desperate to prove she wasn't you hangs in his mind, the terrible, heartbreaking, shameful truth of it ripping him in two. his hand shoots up to encircle her thin neck, bringing her up to the tips of her toes. he wants to squeeze the life out of her, stop her from saying another word; he wants to rip her throat out for daring to speak at all. )