South of SomeWhere (-Editing-)

|Lady Killer|

Got on my leather jacket, thriller  

There sure ain't nothin' iller

Man I'm a lady killer, if I want her I'm a steal her

I promise I could make her fly away like caterpillars

So if you don't know by now then you should probably get familiar  - G-Eazy

Faelion's POV

From the hall, she hears the slippery sliding and yelps of the new princess from the bathing chamber. A light chuckle graces her lips. Running her hands down her cotton work-dress, she tucks a wisp of grey-blonde hair behind a delicately pointed ear and strides purposefully down the hallway to a small room at the end. The door to the room is slightly opened and painted a pale blue. Stencilled pink flowers are scattered over the wooden surface. Quietly, she takes a deep breath and pushes it open. She strides inside hearing the crrreak of the ancient floor under heavy boots. As though nothing is unusual, she walks toward her private work table and opens the left most, bottom door. The ancient floor squeaks and her head jerks upwards. A gentle breeze stirs. She whirls around.

"I know you're there." Her voice is amused and lilting. "You can come out you know?" She sing-songs. Skirting the desk, she stands in the centre of the room.

"You smell like faery blood girl," a voice growls at her from behind. She spins on her heel, but he does as well avoiding her gaze neatly with a graceful sidestep.

"Because I am one silly." She faces the desk, hands on her hips, biting the inside of her cheek in frustration. For a minute, silence pervades and Faelion waits patiently. When her uninvited guest says nothing, she speaks instead. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"You're awful jovial for a fae. Sure you aren't a sprite?" The snarling vice asks from the shadows of her window curtains.

Biting her lower lip, she tries to squash the smile that threatens to spread across her face. "No," she replies as she gathers the tea things -- pot, two china cups, and two tea bags. "I'm of total fae blood, friend."

"Friend," he spits as though the word were a nasty one. "I'm no ones friend!"

"You could be," she says matter of factly. Filling the kettle with water, she throws another log into the old fashioned wood stove and stirs up the sparking logs into flames.

"The very idea is sickening."

She laughs her tinkling laugh again and turns to the silver tray of tea things. "Cream and sugar?" Her doesn't answer. She puts both on the tray.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice is serious, nervous, and a bit scared.

"What?"

"Making me tea, talking to me. If you knew what I was, you'd never do any of...of this," he finishes with contempt. She hears the curtain move, but stays where she is, arranging her single tea spoon and two cups in a straight line. Footsteps sounds behind her.

"Your blood..." the voice hesitates as if waiting for her to turn so he could run, "it smells good. I don't want tea."

"I know."

"No, you don't." The three words are ground between clenched teeth. "I'd rather drink your blood and then, eat your soul for desert. It's awfully tempting."

"You're trying to frighten me. It twont work."

For the first time, he grins. Evilly. "It should be. I've killed people girl."

The footsteps grow closer and land right behind her. Cold breath touches her neck.

"What are you that I should be so scared?" Her hands grip the table top, nails digging into the wood.

"Your worst nightmare."

"Stop playing and spit it out!" Her voice is angry and raised. "I already know. The least you could do is acknowledge the fact."

"Say it."

"A daemon." She says and turns without any hesitation to face him. He's so close their noses almost touch. Teeth bare upwards in a snarl and a hand reaches for her chest. Nails dig into her skin.

"Gods teeth woman," he groans. "You have no idea how much of a turn on your soul is right now."

Heart pattering in fear, she levels her gaze at him.

"I could smell you from the hall outside." His head dips toward her neck and the scar seems to soften and not look as painful.

She sucks in a breath from between her teeth, and then, does something that has him reeling backwards to her worn out leather armchair.

"I'm not afraid of you Avexx," she whispers, and her hand comes up to cup the side of his face, fingers feathering over his deformity.

With a gasp of shock and downright fear, he staggers back, trips, and lands in a sprawling heap on the seat. She chuckles.

"You're more afraid of me then I'll ever be of you." Faelion grins as his hand touches where hers has been only minutes before.

"You're a witch," he croaks.

"And why do you think that?" Her laugh tinkles like dainty silver spoons.

"What'd you do to my face?"

Instead of answering, she pours him a cup of tea, and carries it towards the small table beside the chair. He leans as far away from her as possible. "Drink up."

"Witch."

"Lady killer." She grins good-naturedly. He can't tell if she means it as a tease or literally.

"Sorceress."

"Your personality is absolutely enchanting you know that right."

Gathering a bundle of clothes, she slips behind a changing screen situated in the farthest corner of the room. Light outlines the curves of her body. He looks away but not before he catches sight of her dress slipping over her head.

"Are you getting changed?" he asks his voice incredulous.

Her head appears around the screen. "Oh, Avexx, do be a dear and get me my skirt over there."

His gaze fastens on the outline of her body behind the screen, under her shift, and his heart stutters. "You're doing this on purpose aren't you?"

She smiles lopsidedly flashing him straight, white, even teeth. "I needed a change."

"Don't be innocent." His hands grip the chair arms afraid that if he lets go, he'll touch something else, he shouldn't.

"Truthfully. Do be a dear and fetch it?"

He gulps. Rising as calmly as he can, he scoops up the dress and walls over to the screen, steps measured, ready to bolt in the opposite direction. When he reaches her, she snatches the dress from his waiting hands. He doesn't let go. She waits grey-green eyes meeting eyes that are not red anymore. They're a clear blue.

Her mouth quirks upwards in a heartfelt smile. Then, he does something unexpected. He smiles too.

A/N As author Swadisky said, "bruh. what. am. I. writing. I've got a 100.3 (and rising) temperature, so if anything is weird in here, let me know. Hope you like this new chapter! Let me know if you like the #Faexx (or whatevs you want to call it) part. Please CVR! Picture (sorta) of Faelion up top or side. Love y'all!!