02-25-2021, 01:25 AM
choke them on the ashes of the dreams they burned
He can see the way she nearly wilts after he has removed all the anger from her, and he almost feels guilty for it. He would rather see her bristling and furious than subdued the way she is now, as if he had reprimanded her. But he is weak and he also cannot bear for the anger to be directed at him, doesn't know how to shoulder it. He has not yet learned how to fix the things that he breaks, does not even realize that this is going to be an uphill, losing battle that he fights for the rest of his life.
He stares at her, beautiful and delicate, with that feral side that he had never seen until now. He stares at her and thinks of what they could have been like if he was not this. He wonders if she would have even spared him a second glance as the plain roan boy he had been. There had been nothing special about him—brown eyes in a family of yellow-eyed shadow creatures, with no kind of affinity to the shadows to speak of.
He can’t decide which is worse; being this nightmare that she at least was drawn to, or never being seen by her at all.
Slowly, he shakes his shadowed head, his head angled down to hide the harsh glow of his red eyes from her. “I don’t think we can be friends, Despoina.” The tendrils of shadow that shift and twine around his face shield the way he is clenching his jaw, and the way he grinds his teeth as if he could turn the emotions to dust and swallow them. He wishes he could ignore the hunger—a different kind than what he is used to—gnawing like some rabid beast in the pit of his gut.
But before he knows it he is stepping forward, and he sweeps his nose along the bottom of her jaw. He holds her there in the glow of his red eyes for a moment, and then hesitantly brushes his lips against her cheek. “I don’t want you to be my friend,” his voice is a low rasp now, and he is close enough to feel the warmth that radiates from her skin; everyone always felt so warm compared to him, but she was something more, something electric. “I want you to be mine.”
He stares at her, beautiful and delicate, with that feral side that he had never seen until now. He stares at her and thinks of what they could have been like if he was not this. He wonders if she would have even spared him a second glance as the plain roan boy he had been. There had been nothing special about him—brown eyes in a family of yellow-eyed shadow creatures, with no kind of affinity to the shadows to speak of.
He can’t decide which is worse; being this nightmare that she at least was drawn to, or never being seen by her at all.
Slowly, he shakes his shadowed head, his head angled down to hide the harsh glow of his red eyes from her. “I don’t think we can be friends, Despoina.” The tendrils of shadow that shift and twine around his face shield the way he is clenching his jaw, and the way he grinds his teeth as if he could turn the emotions to dust and swallow them. He wishes he could ignore the hunger—a different kind than what he is used to—gnawing like some rabid beast in the pit of his gut.
But before he knows it he is stepping forward, and he sweeps his nose along the bottom of her jaw. He holds her there in the glow of his red eyes for a moment, and then hesitantly brushes his lips against her cheek. “I don’t want you to be my friend,” his voice is a low rasp now, and he is close enough to feel the warmth that radiates from her skin; everyone always felt so warm compared to him, but she was something more, something electric. “I want you to be mine.”
torryn
