jamie
from the destruction, out of the flame
She emerges, as if from a dream.
And is it any wonder that it is even more difficult to look at her in the light than it had been in the dark?
The sunlight, cruel as it is, draws into focus all the sharpest parts of her and he is reminded of how he’d had to snap at her to stay put. He could not bear to look at her any closer.
This new strength does precious little to protect him from his aversion to beauty.
Not only is she beautiful, so terribly beautiful, but she’s looking at him as if she’s glad to see him. As if anyone has ever been glad to see him. She’s telling him that she’d been hoping to see him as if she is not embarrassed to admit it.
He would frown, certainly, if he were able. But the face is nothing but a sheet of smooth darkness. There is no brow to furrow, so he merely blinks those freakish yellow eyes at her. And then, finally, the mouth shifts around a shark-tooth smile. Ink black, all of it, but the teeth catch the light, glint as he studies her.
There is no tremor in his limbs when he slides his focus to her barrel, heavy with child. He tilts his peculiar head and feels some strange pang of something possessive. Something ugly. But it is gone just as quickly as it had spiraled through him and he meets her eye again, shifts.
“You must have thought of me,” he murmurs, the breathing still labored, the breath still thin as the fingers of fog that reach for her.
you need a villain, give me a name
