death incarnate & night triumphant

Andras knew his fear was getting the better of him as he launches himself into that standing position, pacing the room like a caged animal. Though, he hardly puts off the air of fear, his anger overrides it and that's the emotion he hides behind as he turns on Lani, letting loose a tidal wave of words that are commanding, the voice of the Lord. Yet, it isn't anger at Lani, it's rage at the imaginary foe that would hurt his beautiful human, the idea that someone would try and harm her, change her into a Fae practically makes him sick to his stomach. And in all his rage, he doesn't realize just how much his words hurt Lani. Angry hazel eyes look to the blonde haired woman as she staggers to her feet, tears streaming down her face as she lets loose all her emotions boiling inside. It makes him pause, Andras whirling around, his eyes widening in surprise. He hadn't realized that the girl had thought he was angry at her, the woman misinterpreting that anger that so rattled him is for her.

Pausing, he watches her, eyes widened as he takes in her tear stained face and yet, this is what he wanted right? For her to hate him? For her to distance himself from him? He knew she wasn't safe with him, having relations with him meant having a target on your back, meant that the people trying to hurt him would go straight for his heart and his heart did not lie within his chest, his heart was in front of him. His heart was the form of this beautiful woman who thought that he didn't love her. How very wrong she was! And yet, Andras couldn't bring himself to tell her, to tell her that his soul was fracturing into a million pieces seeing her like this, knowing that he is the reason those tears fall down her face and soak into the carpet. Andras isn't entirely sure what to do, he wanted to wrap her into his arms, to explain why they couldn't be together to tell her that she was his entire being but it wasn't practical and it wasn't safe. So he stands there, stilling his arms, hardening his features as he glances down at her, his face nothing but cool contempt.

And how he hated himself then, more than he ever had before. He was a wretch, a bastard for letting her think that she wasn't worth loving. Perhaps he was a coward, for not letting her decide if she would be okay with being hunted her whole life, be okay with loving someone who would never grow old, never die. Andras simply did not think he was worth being loved and the fact that Lani has found it in her heart to love him makes him shatter so completely. Andras convinces him this is the best way as he steps around the sobbing Lani to retrieve his shirt off the end of the futon, quickly slipping it over his massive shoulders, he buttons it up and gives her another faked cool look as she hugs herself. His arms scream to drag her into him, to kiss away her fears, to love her, to tell her it's all a lie and yet, he doesn't. As she dismisses him, he can't help but stay there, as if he's holding on for just a little longer as she disappears into her bedroom, his Fae ears picking up the way she slides down the door and is lost in her sobbing.

His mask breaks briefly, anguish washing over him and he can't help but move closer to that closed door, laying his hand on it as he bows his head. He was broken in so many ways, he wished he could explain, to tell her everything. He would tell her how much of a monster he was, how she was wasting her time loving him, perhaps if he told her the truth she would run away anyways. He stays there for awhile, leaning against her bedroom door, listening to her sobs grow louder and it takes all he has to not open that door. He doesn't know how long it's been but he finally tears himself away from her bedroom and exits the apartment silently. The sun is bright and warm against his skin, so at odds to how he is feeling inside and still he can't brush away the hurt that was so prominent in her eyes. It was better this way. A constant chant ricocheting from wall to wall in his brain.

Andras barely makes it to his own townhouse before stepping inside and feeling that anguish and anger rising up in him. Moving to the couch, he falls into it leaning forward as he puts his head in his hands, his fingers gripping his hair to hard he might just rip them out. And there he remains, a broken High Lord, thinking this is for the best and yet, he has no idea that his actions always have consequences.

Andras Steinhello darling