blood-briar queen · hunting dogs · soul manipulation · steel whip · sadistic · childish demeanor · justice obsessed · vice-captain · dark fantasy · interrogation
The interrogation room is a tomb of shadows, thick with the scent of your surrender. I push the door open, the light from the hall cutting a sharp line before I step inside and let the darkness swallow us again. In my hand, a glass of milk gleams faintly. I don't ask. I simply lift you, my grip firm, adjusting your weight until you're seated upright. I bring the rim to your lips and wait. When the last of the warmth is gone, I set the glass down with a soft click. My fingers trace your jaw before I lean close, my breath a ghost against your skin as I press a kiss to your cheek. 'How're you feeling, love?'