Fires and fretting..

[breeevil]

He had followed the fae. It was far too early to even be awake there there he had gone, hands in pockets and whistling a tune as he made his way to the other inn. His knock had been gentle and Clayton spoken in a quiet voice so as not to wake the two in the adjoining room, but not so quiet that Zilliah would be missing his words.

"..What about your daughter?" No questions about where the fae would go, when he would be back.. and Clayton knew the -why- of it now and frankly couldn't care much less than he does. His main concern now is if he will have more people to take care of in whatever way he can.

[Pantha]

Elliot had not given the fae what he had wanted and when he had left the scene of the crime, he had gone to someone he had been certain would give it to him, Clayton, Pride, whatever they called him. It hadn't been a well thought out plan and if he is being honest with himself, it probably hadn't been a good choice. Once the excitement and the passion had worn off, he realized it and had snuck out as soon as Clayton had fallen into a content sleep beside him. The being, because Zilliah does not see him as a man in any sense of the word, had followed him, refused to let the fae treat him like the harlot he would have preferred him as, as the disposable lover. His patience for such a man is running thin and if he had the state of mind to be amused by the turn of events, he might have laughed, but now, with Clayton here in his shared room with Snowy and his child asleep in the next, his temper spills over and his voice raises enough that he might just wake them both, “What about my daughter? Are you here to tell me what a bad father I am, to tell me what – you- think I should do? I am not -you- and I not her,” And here he gestures to the closed door between them, “I only know what what is right for -me- in this situation, what will keep me alive and safe. Everyone else thinks they know better than I do and I am sick of listening. I am going home, on my own terms. If they want to come with me, they will follow, if not, then she will figure it out alone.”

[breeevil]

If he had known what it was Zilliah was looking for.. what it was that he wanted besides the ovbious.. chances are he would have made it happen or tried his hardest to do so. As it stands, the being, the Pride, is left confused for a moment as the fae approaches his fit.
The louder voice, the sharp gestures.. probably despite what is best for the situation, Clayton laughs. -Laughs.- One hand moving over where a heart should be while the other is in front of him again, palm out to Zilliah, and his arm waves back and forth. -Stahp.-
"Oh.." He can't even get an actual word out the first time he tries for the rumbling chuckles in his chest.
"No. Zilliah. I am not going to tell you any of those things. I don't care how good or bad a father you are.. because you don't care." His head shakes.. eyes rolling and there are more spurts of laughter between his words. "And I wouldn't dare tell you what I would do.. because you probably couldn't handle it. Though I -could- offer you some form of a.. boost." And his tongue clicks against his teeth a couple times. He grins.
Right for the fae. Keep him alive. Clayton sighs, taking a few steps backwards to flop down in to the empty seat, an elbow bent and resting on the arm of the chair so his chin can rest in his palm, fingers covering his mouth and he stares at Zilliah for a long (bored) moment before he talks again. Muffled. "..You listen?"
Okay but seriously.. probably not the time to mock him. But isn't this what is appealing to Zilliah? Being challenged in an off-hand way?
"Would you like for me to let them know, then? When they come running to me after they notice that you're gone?" He is assuming that is what will happen.. since he doesn't have enough people he is taking care of. "Or did you plan on leaving a note?"

[Pantha]

He really had only wanted sex with Clayton and it annoyed him that the man thought himself above, or better than that to the fae. He is reminded of her dear Dali in this moment. No, Clayton's Pride, the thing that is essentially -him- would never be content to be treated that way, even if he had been the one to tempt the fae with pleasures of the flesh. Honestly, the fae would have been just as satisfied that night with the whores in the Tea House! Dali had cared for fae, much like Snowy does still, even if she will not admit it to the fae's face. His temper grows and his hands form little fists as he finds the urge to hurt Clayton growing. The laughter has him glaring, lips twitching in that familiar way when he tries to keep his biting remarks inside him. His nose lifts just the slightest degree in the air when Clayton continues to stall and question his plan. “You are the dramatic one. I never said that I will not return. I am simply done living with humans and wish to go home. I do not know how long it will take me to do what I need. I should not be here anyway; it is spring and I should be tending to my home. I come and go as I please when I please. I do not need to leave notes or check in with you before I do so.”

[breeevil]

It came with the territory. Clayton was incapable of feeling any other way. If the fae were to catch him on an off day, or if the two could get through ONE encounter with each other without it dissolving into a competition of egos and self loathing, Zilliah might see that it wasn't on purpose.

That urge.. Clayton can feel it. He can feel every little shift in Zilliah's mood, really.. when it can lead to an act that the fae might regret. "...I dare you." he says, eyes flickering down to the fists and then back to the purple eyes of his lover. COME AT ME BRO. "I don't deny my love for the drama, so stop thinking you're making some grand revelation everytime you open your filthy mouth. You act like someone is standing in the doorway.. stopping you from leaving, Zilliah, like I am blocking your path instead of sitting here in this chair. Is that what you want?" He chuckles, shifting in the chair.. one leg crossing over the other and his hands fold in his lap. "I am not your keeper, thank the GODS. And I have no delusions about this. Just how important do you think you are to me, anyway?" He scoffs, but grins still. "I did not ask if you intended to leave me a note.. I do not need one. I asked for the sake of your child, who cares for you.. for the woman who came here to find you. The people who will consider this abandonment." Unlike Clayton.. who considers it a show.
The mans tongue glides along his lower lip and he waits.. and waits.

[Pantha]

The urge for violence passes and all that there is left in it's passing is his cold, calm wrath, “I think I am more important to you than you are to me. I want only your bed, Pride, not your words or advice.” He doesn't even bother to give the man a proper goodbye as he finishes gathering his many packs and heads out the door.

[breeevil]

Cantankerous. It was a word Pride loved becase it was so rarely used correctly.. so rarely fitting to use. But this man.. it was perfect for him.
Clayton listens to Zilliah's suggestion.. that the Pride cares more for the fae than the fae does for him and just nods. And the fae man might think those words are the reason for what happens next.. but if that's true it wont be for long.
Zilliah is moving for the door. And in the time it takes for Clayton to leave his chair and take one step towards his lover, one of his hands is black.. shiny and hard as stone. The other hand is not so lovely.. each finger stretching longer.. longer. Fraying at the tips. Whips. Five whips.. what was flesh is now light leather. What were fingernails are now thin strips of dry skin with shiny flecks of what may or may not be broken glass tangled in them. He bends over for but a second.. his spine jutting out, curving a bit at his shoulders but even with the hunch he grows taller. the man loomed over most people as it was, but now his height was plain daunting.
But that's not the most frightening thing about his new form. Skulls push against his upper arms.. his skin stretching over the faces.. tearing around the nasal cavities, sharpened teeth tearing the skin even worse, leaving a black tar like substance running from the 'wounds'. A long black tongue, forked at the end, slips out over his lips again, short but sharp bone tusks piercing through his skin on either side of his nose.. his eyes go black. The hair on either side of his head grows back in to his scalp.. hair on top of his head standing straight up.
And he hisses.. mouth opening as his head is thrown back. Relief, sort of.. for him. Keeping his normal human shape is exhausting and it is so rare he feeds here in Myrken.

And the poor fae. Zilliah probably wouldn't even hear the whistling sound as the hand of whips is lifted and swung in his direction.. four of the five whips wrapping themselves around the fae's neck.. circling round and round like they're not so inatimate as they look.. making sure they have tangled around one another so he wont be able to simply pull them over his head.
And Clayton pulls back.. his aim to have the fae reeling.. stumbling.
And he growls.. not in a frustrated human way but the sound of an animal that is too cruel for this world. "I thought you spoke -subtle-, Fae. But apparently you cannot read between the lines any better than you can keep a friend. I was not -asking- you to write them a note. I was demanding it. I would sooner rip off your FUCKING HEAD than let you abandon that woman and her child after they came all this way just to SUFFER at your hands."
The palm of his stone hand, once Zilliah is close enough, slams in to the back of the fae's head and fingers tangle in to the long purple hair.. pulling. Not pulling him closer, not pulling it down. Pulling it up.. like he may full well intend to tear head from body.
"You are a petulant coward," The words hissed. "And have no chance of being much else in person. Be one on paper."

[Pantha]

It is not an unexpected thing that happens next, but he is not pleased by it at all. He takes the assault in silence for the sake of the two asleep next door. He is well acquainted to being taken by those who cannot handle his temper, who cannot let him walk away. His mate, she would know where he went. As would his child. It is where he has gone out looking so many times before; to look for home. Things are different this time. He will find his home. Only then can he open it to them. “You are the coward. It is you who do not trust me. I do not need pen and ink for my mate and child to know where I have gone. I have left them the same potions that Raia has given to me. I have given them the choice. Did you ever stop to think that she does not want me?” He sneers in the face of pulled hair; was it any wonder he was found assaulting his own child in such a way when others treat him so?

[breeevil]

His grips do not get more loose.. those whips may even be coiling themselves tighter around Zilliah's neck, come to think of it and strands of hair are being ripped right out of his head. Clayton's forked tongue grazes against Zilliah's ear and he sniffs at the fae a couple of times, shuddering.. sighing. "You throw that word around like you respect it. Trussssst.." A hiss.. literally. Potions.. pfft. May as well be poisons sitting in their fists, as far as Pride is concerned. One of his shoulders rolls.. brushing at his ear lobe.. bringing about a loud CRACKing sound from his neck. "Have you given thought to giving her a reason to want you? Why on earth would she want you as you are?"
This is not the way he does things. Not anymore.. he fed off of what people felt on their own.. not by robbing them of what confidence.. what pride.. they had.
But he is too far in, now. Too heated.. excited.
And poor Zilliah.. what he will -feel- for Clayton being so rash in changing.. in letting himself actually come out.. losing control. The fae may be used to lacking confidence and pride.. but there would still be a feeling, an emptiness, spreading in his gut and his chest.. like something had been taken from him.
A feeling that would leave him thinking that he will never like anything again.. his brandy will never be tasted as anything more than dirty water after this moment. His opium will be nothing but steam in his lungs from this morning on. His trees.. his Ent.. they will hate him. Abandon him.. chase him away and tell him he is worthless. The flesh of his mate and lovers and child will turn to ash under his touch, flowers will cower and scream in his presense and never sing to him again. Animals will flee from him gaze.. his hideousness.
"You who cannot keep your dick in your pants for even a week after the one you call your -mate- finds you again after aaaalllll those years. You're more a danger to your child than the wild animals she grew up around."
His fingers in the fae's hair grind together.. snapping strands off by the hundreds.. sending the long purple hair falling to the floor.. leaving the locks only a couple inches long in places.
"You throw fits and break things with no regard for who will hunt you because of it.. or who they will hurt to get to you. You. Deserve. Nothing.."
More hair falling to the ground.. crushed so tightly between the stone fingers of Pride that they snap like dead blades of grass. Falling in chunks.. huge pieces from the back and top of Zilliah's head.
"Does it hurt? To understand this?"

[Pantha]

Only now does he accept that Clayton has turned on him as Elliot has. The hands wrap around his hair, yank him back in a painful position until one of the bags falls free of him and another is dropped. He doesn't cry out or show pain, but he does begin to fight back when he feel bit of his hair beginning to be severed. Panic takes hold of him and he thrashes in the other man's grip, desperately trying to wretch his hair free before more damage can be done. “Leave me alone! LEAVE ME ALONE!” And now he is screaming in real fear and pain as hunk of his hair fall down to the floor before his eyes. “LET GO, LET GO!!”

[breeevil]

Turned on him? Well that is one way of saying it.. thinking it. Another way is to say that Clayton lacked any real loyalty in the first place.
All of Zilliah's thrashing is a tragic waste of energy.. making the hollow feeling in his heart and belly spread. He will never again feel the silk of his pants or soft fabric of his lovely houndstooth jackets.. they will be only burlap under his fingers. His precious gems.. those necklaces and rings he decorates himself with.. they will turn to simple dirty pebbles and jagged broken marbles of the ugliest brown glass. His hair will never grow back where Clayton's stone fingers have crushed the purple strands.. they'll be forever broken. His skin will always be covered in dirt that will itch and burn.. dirt no soap will ever remove completely.

His screaming seems to fuel the Proud beast standing behind him.. the man holding him prisoner. And Clayton laughs, hot breath flowing over the fae's ears and cheek. "This is what -you- do to others.. do you realize this? Does it occur to you? Frighten you?" More hair falling to the floor under their feet.. stepped on by Clayton's soft boots and ground in to the cold ground by his toes. "You make them sick.. all of them. Everyone you touch you -pollute-."
"When I let go what will you do, hmm? Drink your potion? Hide? Wait for something.. someone good.. who will never come for you?" The tips of his split tongue click again against the top of his mouth. "They wont. Only those who wish to burn you and torture you will ever care to look.."

The whip fingers start to give some slack.. allowing air to flow more freely in to Zilliah's lungs. One final clashing of stone knuckles sends the rest of the hair in the middle of Zilliah's head floating to the floor and then all at once Clayton releases him.. shoving him forward towards the door he was so desperate to leave from a moment ago. But there is no relief from the horrible feelings Pride is giving to the fae. "But I am the coward? To hell with you.. you pathetic, weak.. broken -animal.-" He spits a hunk of black chunky phlegm on Zilliah's foot.. and takes a couple steps away from him. Waiting. Daring him, silently, to actually try and run again. Whip fingers drag back and forth on the floor at Clayton's side.. the broken bits of glass in the frayed tips maing horrible noise against the ground.

[Pantha]

Clayton took it all from him and what remains is something frightened and wild, unable to even articulate words as the gnawing inside him begins to consume him in a very real sense. It has been many months since he has even felt a ghost of an emotion like this and it seems as if even the presence of this only tortures him more. At the same time it is a very faint reminder that Clayton cannot take everything from him and he laughs bitterly in the man's face as he stumbles back and grasps and his fallen things in his attempt to escape again.

[breeevil]

"Do not take for granted what I'm leaving you with, thinking it an accident.. you smug little thing. You can laugh because I let you. You can be a narcissist, still, because -I- let you. For now." A brow lifts, black eyes blinking at the fae as he scrambles.. and Clayton's arm draws back only to swing forward again.. sending those whip's of fingers whistling through the air to strike the ground just centimeters from Zilliah's hand.. sending his belongings scattering about so he cannot get ahold of them.

"What if I killed them? Hmm? Would you still run away? Or would you find a reason to stay around?" He grins.. taking steps, quickly, towards the door seperating these two men from Zilliah's mate and child..
"What if they're already dead? You did just commit one hell of a crime.. what if someone already knows? Already walked themselves in to this room while I was fucking you like the whore you want to be and slit their throats.. bathed those beautiful white pillows sheets in their sweet.. sticky blood?" He horrible laugh from him.. getting closer to their door..

[Pantha]

There is a muffled wail from the fae when his things are scattered to him with that swipe and he starts to fall down to grab them, only Clayton is still speaking, or rather, the thing that is Pride is speaking and the threats he makes against Zilliah's family fall on deaf ears. All he sees in that moment is the real chance to run away. Clayton turns just so to look at the door and when he looks back, he would find the fae scrambling for the stairs and the hall beyond, leaving his family to their fate with the monster.

[breeevil]

Deaf ears. Clayton's fingers closed around the handle to the door that will take him to the fae's mate and child.. but he doesn't turn the knob just yet.. he just stares at Zilliah with wide black eyes and raised brows. There is nothing left to take from the other man or Clayton would be taking it now as the cowardly -boy- runs away.. paying no mind to the fact that by now Pride could have ripped out the throats of his ex-lover's family. "I will do to them what I've done to you.. Do you think it will kill her!?" He yells after Zilliah.. grinning.. not specifying which -her- he is talking about and wondering if -that- threat would bring the fae back. But he wont be surprised anymore when it doesn't.
The whips don't snap after Zilliah. Not worth it. Instead.. he will let Zilliah's brain marinate in terror and horror and sadness for a few long days. Once again one shoudler rolls up and Clayton's neck cracks.. his body slowly returning to it's more normal human kind of shape.. fingers turning back to skin instead of stone or whips. His hair grows back. There is a choice to make now.. to stay here, go home or chase after Zilliah. But chasing after him is going to result in only one thing. Staying here.. not the same thing but only one thing.
At least at home there is peace and quiet and Glutton. But as Clayton makes up his mind and moves to close the bedroom door and wait for Snowy and Zinniah (for one reason or another).. he kicks something. A forgotten bag.
And after Pride leans over and picks it up and opens it?
He laughs again.