I need you to be a monster
which is to say, I am trying not to love you
He is not used to drawing anyone’s eye. He is handsome enough, but beauty is a near-worthless currency in a land so populated with fantastical creatures. Mere beauty is not enough – they are expected to control elements, or shift into mythical creatures, or stop time. What can Rapt do? He can heal the wound that those more powerful than he lay across his flesh. And that is plenty, for him. He does not crave power, does not crave magic. He is content to have the power that he does, to have a body capable of coming back from near-death.
(Was it powerful, to lead that crab into the pyre? Was it powerful, to choke the lion to death on your own flesh? Can it be powerful if there was no choice other than death?)
He notices her soon enough. She’s gold, like him, but with so much more. Beautiful, like him, but with so much more.
(Scarred, like him – but this, he doesn’t notice. He doesn’t look for weakness on others.)
He thinks she will pass him by. He is easy to pass by. But she stops, flames beneath her hooves, and asks a question that has echoed in his own mind.
What are you looking for?
He pauses and thinks of the answer. Or, something to say for an answer. Because the truth is he doesn’t know, or he knows but doesn’t let himself admit it, or maybe he’s not looking for anything at all, he’s just moving for the sake of moving, or moving because when he’s moving he’s less likely to see the lion twisting before him.
Maybe it’s all of that; or none of it.
“Distractions,” is what he says, the explanation he settles on, “lately, my mind hasn’t been the most pleasant place to be.”
This is true. The memories are too fresh and his mind is too eager to replay them, to resurrect the sea monster and the giant crab and the lion. The feeling of seawater in his mouth.
“And you?” he asks, “what are you looking for?”
which is to say, I am still dreaming of kissing your claws
@Aela