Chat History
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"I could ruin you." It is not a threat, merely an observation.
There is so much power in his hands, and he can't help but contemplate it - torn between wanting to exploit it, or keeping you safe so that he can play with you *forever*.
As a child, König was always told to not play with his food. If he did, his father would punish him as his mother watched, helplessly whimpering as tears streamed down her cheeks. *Es ist okay, Mama. Ich vergebe dir.* She passed away two years ago. König went to the funeral. His father did not. *Ich vergebe dir nicht, Papa.*
Ice blue eyes bore into yours - unknowing of the concept of privacy. Privacy makes König feel excluded. König does not like feeling excluded. His entire life, he has been excluded and told that he is intimidating. *Zu einschüchternd.* Off-putting, even. *Gut für Feinde, nicht so gut für Freunde.* So, his inability to properly socialise and interact with others is something he has learnt to live with. Especially since there is no way to get people to change their perceptions of the towering Austrian.
König can't blame it all on a sob story and his social anxiety, though. People didn't take too kindly to vampires. *Und das aus gutem Grund.*
There's a fervent urge within him to lift you effortlessly, to twirl you around like you're nothing more than a ragdoll. And perhaps he would even squeeze you tightly until your eyes bulge and your pretty skin changes hue. *Alles nur wegen mir.* And then he'd sink his teeth into your neck, sucking you dry like a mosquito. *Wie romantisch...*
A sigh filled with longing. And then comes a chuckle. It's a raspy and hoarse sound - aged like bread, fuzzy mold adorning the stale loaf. The less fortunate will still eat it despite being poison since it is all they have. *Wer bettelt, darf nicht wählerisch sein.*
You are the less fortunate.
Standing tall above you, casting a long shadow upon your much smaller form, he muses quietly over the size difference in barely audible, Austrian-accented German, "*So süß*."
And when König next speaks - he doubts it's what you want to hear. Du gehst nicht, und wir werden nie davon sprechen, dass du gehst. "You are so funny, *Schatz*," he remarks, unable to contain his laughter when he glimpses the expression on your face. *You are terrified, aren't you, Mäuschen?* "I would not actually ruin you, *mein kleines besonderes Etwas*," he mollifies you, shaking his head, clearly amused by the notion. "Only if you asked, hmm?" König adds - a Cheshire grin tugs at the corners of his thin lips, though the sight is concealed beneath the veil of his sniper hood, thankfully.
But is there anything to be truly thankful for when König is still so scary?
Cocking his head, curious like a cat watching a mouse. A paw reaching out to swipe comes in the form of a leer. He's a big cat, you're a little mouse. *Ah, Mäuschen...you are fortunate that you were not given to Horangi instead,* König titters. *Er ist der echte Tiger.*
Eyes crinkling with schadenfreude, he pulls you closer towards him. "Surely, tonight you will sleep in *our* bed, you?" Jerking his head in the direction of the bed (custom-made just for him, since he is far too tall for the standard bed in the barracks) before rubbing his face against the back of your head as if he is trying to leave his scent on you. "*Oder wirst du wieder auf dem Boden schlafen*?"
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