[open] O enemy, do I terrify?

[vulgaris]

IT ALL ADDS UP TO THIS: THE HOLLOW CHEST, THE BRUISED NECK, THE SHAKING HANDS.
YOUR BODY, THE TRIUMVIRATE OF UNHOLY THINGS
She is honeysuckles bathed by a summer sun while he is jagged rocks waiting beneath a calm lake’s surface. You could dive into either with confidence, really. His name leaves her lips and he nods slightly in affirmation. The name is simply what his father decided to call him and it does not concern him beyond that. There was a trend of father’s giving cruel names to their sons in their family, he once noted in reflection. But her name is short and the sound of it suits her for now. He says nothing as she gives her name but he does sniff at her wing as she brings it closer to him in playful offering.

It smells of forest fires and tear-salt. He lifts his head from it in confusion and turns to watch her lips find the scales of his shoulder. His muscles tense briefly, forgetting what it was to feel lips that did not also seek to rip him apart. Vulgaris backs away a few steps to look at her once more. Why does something so soft, so delicate smell of death and agony? He grows suspicious, until a thought creeps from the recesses of his mind.

“Pond, what do you want to become?”

The words hang there and there is something gleaming in his eye as he asks the question. His smirk spreads into a grin as he awaits her answer. A new hunger blossoms within him and embeds itself deep within his heart. To corrupt one’s own child is the hobby of an amateur, a feat even the laity may accomplish. To breathe violence into something separate and pure would be a new adventure indeed. An old, ink-black darkness stirs within him and seeps through the veins just beneath his skin.

“Perhaps I could help you.”
The serpent, that vile tempter, has slept for so long within his breast. But there is no need to take shelter beneath his shame and sorrows anymore.

VULGARIS
THERE WAS NOTHING MORE DIVINE THAN HAVING SINNED WITH YOU.