the sword in the darkness; jassal pony

[Samael]

i don't want anything from her
except her red apple heart.
something i can bite into quickly
without making a mess.

Always, his mind dreams of destruction and ruin, like some discordant lullaby that soothes only him. Warden’s wings remind him of the stories his mother used to tell him, of angels and demons and how the two would always fight for the fate of the world. Is Warden an angel then? Isn’t Samael the demon? There are thoughts of plucking the wings from him and laughing at the awful cosmic joke but he refrains. His mother is dead and her stories have ended, he reminds himself. Everyone he’s ever known is long gone.

He is alone.

Samael tilts his head at the boy’s response and his head turns just a little too far. (An illusion, a lie. An exaggeration of what he can truly do.) He’s dead behind the eyes, he’s been told. His gaze is empty and it inspires a sense of unease in others that he sometimes wishes he could stop. But he wasn’t made for comforting others or soothing tired minds. No, he damned kindness and love years ago and got these gifts in exchange.

“How strange, you are,” he says with something like a laugh but from someone who never learned joy. “What’s your name? Mine’s Samael.”

And then he’s holding his head normally again. His eyes wander back to those wings and he wonders what it’s like to fly. Samael can almost feel the winds on his face and imagine the world from so far above, where he’d like to be. To escape all the woes and troubles of this world for just a while before he came back down. Maybe the landing would snap his neck and end his servitude.

“So if not your reflection, then what do you watch?”

He steps closer, finally bringing his gaze to Warden’s face. There is a wing length between them now as he circles him, tail still swinging back and forth like a perfect pendulum.

SAMAEL
when i close my eyes, i'm a statue
that she wants to run her tongue over.
when i close my eyes, i cut it off
and keep it.

@[Warden]