[private] All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade away again [Offspring]

[Offspring]

You're looking at an absolute zero;
I'm not the devil but I won't be your hero.

  The silence is deafening.

  The tension in the air is heavy, and she is aching, bruised and bleeding – her movements no longer effortless or graceful. There is a soft ache in his own chest, yearning to urge her to stop, to breathe and take a moment, but she is tireless despite her anguish and she does not pause except to empty the contents of her stomach when the darkness gleaming in her golden gaze is seemingly too much to bear. 

  She had been bound when he found her, tied up and put on display with the scent of her desire permeating the stillness of the woodland air – intermingling with the stench of sweat and blood of so many others; he cannot know what torture and torment she had been forced to endure. He can only see the way the memory of it ravages her, ravenously feasting on her insecurities, her anxiety festering into a gaping, open wound.

  His uncertainty is quieted by the sight of the volcano looming in the distance – thick plumes of smoke pooling from the crest, encasing the quiet island in a familiar haze, while the roiling sea caresses the shoreline, raking over sand and rhyolite alike.

  His crimson gaze averts away from the island, searching the terse, hardened plane of her feminine features, parting the darkness of his mouth to speak – when her own teeth are suddenly bared, lips peeled back as she lashes out toward him. He does not shy away from her ferocity, and her teeth strike at the thick column of his neck, harsh and bruising – plucking at the skin as a small trickling of blood is brought to the surface.

  Ears pinned to the base of his skull, the darkness of his smoldering gaze bores into her own, searching through the anger, the agony, the shame – perplexed; bewildered. 

  Why? she asks of him, but he is quiet.

  Why did you come back? she demands of him, and he does not know what to say.

  ”What do you mean?” he breathes finally, his voice rough from the smoke and the ash that had filled his lungs – the fire is his, the fire is a part of him, but he can still feel the way the dust and residue of his destruction clutches to the alveoli of his lungs. ”What are you talking about? Come back? – Tantalize, I’ve never even been to Sylva before.”

OFFSPRING

another zealot with the weight of the fucking world.