CrownS
Sabbath has begun to accept that he is not the sickly newborn she used to lie next to each night, counting his breaths for fear the next would not come. Without her careful guidance, he has quickly grown careless in his wandering and he pushes his limits a little further each day. And this one will be no different. He intends to let Rosebay do as she will with him because he wants to know his own weaknesses. He wants to stare long and hard into Death’s face and know that it cannot touch him.
So when she arrives, he tucks all that magic awake and bids his wings goodbye. They fall from his shoulders with a splash. Suddenly he is just a plain thing, save for the rich sapphire blue of his coat. He watches her and he smiles, an expression brimming with warmth and excitement buzzing in his bones.
“I did! And a promise is a promise, Rosebay,” he says, his voice now a pitch lower than the last time they saw each other. Crowns still wears a short mane, but his chest has broadened and the angle of his jaw is growing sharper with time. These days, there is something dark lurking in the corner of his smile when he watches her draw near him.
“I’ve known you as prey, but I want to know you as the predator also. Won’t you teach me?” he pleads now, bridging what little space is between them. He pushes the short length of her forelock back in a delicate kiss. Crowns wants her to think he’s handing her the knife so she can butcher him. He wants her to not even notice the way he worms himself under her skin and takes root there like a fever dream. And when all the smoke and mirrors are over with, he’ll bite into her heart like the first apple of autumn and toss her aside when he’s through.
So when she arrives, he tucks all that magic awake and bids his wings goodbye. They fall from his shoulders with a splash. Suddenly he is just a plain thing, save for the rich sapphire blue of his coat. He watches her and he smiles, an expression brimming with warmth and excitement buzzing in his bones.
“I did! And a promise is a promise, Rosebay,” he says, his voice now a pitch lower than the last time they saw each other. Crowns still wears a short mane, but his chest has broadened and the angle of his jaw is growing sharper with time. These days, there is something dark lurking in the corner of his smile when he watches her draw near him.
“I’ve known you as prey, but I want to know you as the predator also. Won’t you teach me?” he pleads now, bridging what little space is between them. He pushes the short length of her forelock back in a delicate kiss. Crowns wants her to think he’s handing her the knife so she can butcher him. He wants her to not even notice the way he worms himself under her skin and takes root there like a fever dream. And when all the smoke and mirrors are over with, he’ll bite into her heart like the first apple of autumn and toss her aside when he’s through.
you got me on my knees; i'm your one-man cult.