07-19-2015, 04:42 PM
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
He’s venomous.
He’s always been, though.
No, not always. Not in the beginning. Not before the Chamber.
I’ve always been the younger brother, until the recent years. I’ve been the little fellow, the golden fluff ball who stuck by Mom for ages. Perhaps in that, I followed in Rayelle’s footsteps. Once I left the Jungle – temporarily – I tracked down Rodrik, however. When Mom no longer walked the Jungle, or this earth, I found myself at an utter and complete loss. The meadow no longer supported my aimless wanderings and desperate attempts at romance, because I knew no other way. I knew nothing of independence.
And when I crawled to Rodrik unglamorously and completely vulnerable, he sheltered me. He cried with me. He always shed his evil when it was only he and I; I got to witness that old gleam in his eyes, the one that was gold, not black. Perhaps this is why I am not shocked at his appearance; I’ve watched it melt and solidify on his skin a thousand times before. I’ve seen the Rodrik which the world knows, and I’ve glimpsed the one I knew.
And yet again, as he looks to me, the blood-lust falters in his gaze. Saliva drips from his fanged lips, and blood is matted against the filth of his undead figure, but he and I played pretend far too often as rambunctious Jungle children for this façade to scare me.
“Well, I would probably expect some small animal dangling from your lips.” A rascally grin paints my expression, although the queasiness in my stomach has not quite dissipated. “At that point however, we’d have to start calling you Shaytan, and that would be an insult to your masculinity I’m sure.” Brotherly banter; acceptable at all times, even ones as tension-filled as this.
Straia asks what his intentions are here, and while I don’t appreciate her cool tone, I do not object. In fact, I find myself rather curious as to his doings in the kingdom… Things have surely changed. Perhaps the coming of the Beqanna Fairy has caused this disruption among the family – or perhaps it is the empathy, picking up on the discomfort and the tightness of throats.
IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE and crappy too ugh Kavi is weird to write