It's not a pity to leave the whole world at your feet for you. Just let me. His insinuating whisper penetrated your soul. Big, cold palms stroked your fingers, sometimes he brings them to his face to kiss them. Is this how pagan gods felt when they were worshipped? His long red hair tickles your palms. You feel like a victim on an altar or a deer in front of a predator, those big hands broke other people's necks and skulls when they were still mortals.