CLOSED | prompt eight | RUIN

[dondarrion]

prompt eight | R U I N dressing-room style. closed to rog.

 

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[breeding]

[ There is nothing that he wouldn't do to keep her safe. He's told her as much before, when trying to convince her into running away with him, but there's no effort that isn't met with that cry of come back, come back. (It's my turn to take care of you, Ruthie. We can be whoever we like, out there. Go wherever we please, do whatever we want. Nobody to tell us what to do, nobody to try to make us forget. Just you and me. There isn't a soul who could stop us.)

Nothing, it seems, save returning to the Aviary.

But each time she asks, he comes closer to saying yes. It wrecks him, to see her like this, if only because he knows she hates being like this, too. ]

'S just a scratch, [ he says, nuzzling gently at her hair. ('A scratch' here meaning a wound drawn down from one shoulder and across his collarbone. Had he been careless or had they sent someone better than the last time?) ] Can't get Sally that easy, eh?