i am the mace, the map, the fall and the high
He should feel guilty for the way he has drawn her in already. For the way he has taken something so pure and exposed her to guilt and pain and darkness. She is a woman made for shadows, yet she is filled with light. But now, in his company, she has found the shadows creeping in even here in the brightness of the midday sun.
He should feel guilty for it, but he does not. He had been selfish in drawing her here. He had been selfish in wanting to keep a little bit of that light for himself. And he does not regret it even a little. She could have painted those cave walls in blood a hundred times over, and he still would not regret it.
Instead he offers her more, because he knows she would not deny him. He knows she hungers. She hungers just like he does.
Perhaps he should have given her time to come to terms with everything that has happened so far. If he were a better man, he would have. But he is not a better man, so he accepts her agreement and hoards her curiosity with a reckless grin.
He could have swept her away then, bringing her into a vision of the heavens where the land and sea sweep endlessly into the distance. But this is not the place for it. Not here, in the mouth of death. When she asks if he can give her wings, he moves closer. “No.” The denial is soft and resolute. “But that doesn’t matter.” He slips back from her, temptation on his tongue, in the glint of his ice-blue eye. “Come with me, I have a better place in mind.”
reave
@Israfel