Natasha raises an eyebrow, catching his meaning almost immediately. “Well, I suppose I should think him for that at least,” she mutters - not that she can promise it’ll be a particularly warming thank you. “You err though, in calling me yours. I may be the spider, but I am neither lovely, nor little. I am, however, gratified to know that the thought of my death pleases you the way yours does mine. Everything ends.”
“Ah, what beautiful mutual dislike.” And that sentiment, it seemed, was almost genuine from the god’s lips. He much preferred this to meaningless idolization or, worse, romantic advances thrown with bodies at his feet professing bewildering love and devotion. Yes, this was far more comfortable.
Natasha’s expression doesn’t change at the sentiment, although she acknowledges it as her own truth as well as his. With a trickster, it’s simply easier to confess from the start, allow him to work out what is trickery and what is truth. “It appears we reach an impasse then.”
inheritorofmemories reblogged this from silvertonguesewnlips-blog and added:
Natasha’s expression doesn’t change at the sentiment, although she acknowledges it as her own truth as well as his. With...
silvertonguesewnlips-blog reblogged this from inheritorofmemories and added:
“Ah, what beautiful mutual dislike.” And that sentiment, it seemed, was almost genuine from the god’s lips. He much...