#writing a bit of 15 year old Lucanis was fun I'm gonna do more bits from his perspective down the line i think

[housederiva]

I added a prologue to Facets of Determination if anybody's interested in reading it! The beginning of it is under the cut and the rest of the chapter as well as the first four of the story are here!

The part below's based off a nightmare I had a few years ago that I've never been quite able to shake, so I hope it reads well! And thank you guys for over 3000 hits on it, I wasn't expecting so many people to be interested in my little slow burn xx

The touch pressing into her skin was kinder than the one she had felt most nights. It was filled with trepidation, soft like the first droplets of rain hitting skin. A tender movement that asked for silent permission before continuing. An act to swoon over and write about – not to disassociate through and then forget.

Try as she might to remain still, shivers still ran through her as fingers before carefully placing themselves along the length of her arm. Slowly it traced upwards. These were not the Master’s rough groping hands. Instead they were slender, the nails curved and moving with a heartbreaking gentleness. The softness of them slithered across muscle in just the right fashion to trigger goosebumps across her skin. An unknown hand that whispered a promise of care – admiration.

What a dangerous thought that was; to think that she would be worthy of such affection. But the nails against her flesh were nothing short of soothing, making her think that there was no threat at all. Never before had she been treated as if she were some fragile ornament that needed protecting. And yet, the thumb circled around the pulse inside her elbow, repeating the motion lazily as it blanketed her in a security that would be afforded to the finest crystal. “I will protect you.” It whispered, “Nothing will harm you as long as I have the power to do something about it.”

She hated it; or at the very least was unnerved. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t wanted.

A prick of pain washed up with a vein of her arm, the nail catching skin. Its rounded curve became a needle as the hand around her forearm morphed into another with a sickening crunch. It followed the same path, curving up her body, sharper - almost annoyed or perhaps disappointed at the Desire of being denied.

Two hands became three. Three became four. What once was a sweetened hum of touch shifted into an enraged shout. The press of fingertips turned into clawing, greedy shards of glass. They pulled at her, like she was a rag doll in a game of tug of war fought against rabid mabari.

More hands now, pressing up the meat of her calves as the unwelcomed touch crooned its way into her. The fingers drilled inwards, fish hooks that writhed through tendons and muscle before splintering bone. She fought to break the barrier of her skin. To tear the intruders out.

Tearing. Peeling. Bloody. Absent of the beauty that first touch had promised. She tried to look away, to somehow change the red to darkness.

Several nails tore into her scalp at the realization of this, pulling her hair with such force that chunks were ripped out while other claws slithered to her eyelids and pried them open. Forcing her to watch the massacre of hands leeching inwards until she couldn’t tell where she started, and they began-