06-21-2019, 01:42 AM
OPHANIM
Before, he had been content to pass the hours here in Sylva in simple boredom, with nothing and no one to keep him company. Sinner would only tolerate his games for so long before leaving to do.. whatever it is hellhounds do. Perhaps he hunts? Ophanim occasionally went to the meadow to visit with the children and play their silly games until they were tired enough to go home. He figured it was easier on Starsin, that way she wasn’t watching their horde of precious goblins all on her own. But, as babies often do, they spilled her secrets and explained how she’d been with another man.
He’s grown to wish his heir didn’t read minds so easily.
He had been good, for the first time in maybe ever. He’d kept from burning down Sylva’s precious trees and he didn’t force his friendship on Sochi to pass the time a little easier. Ophanim didn’t reach out to old flames or wander the common lands for any kind of company at all. No, this sentence had given him time to reflect on all he’d done wrong and he accepted it with his head hung in shame. Meekness found him and sunk its teeth into his raw skin until Malone let the cat out of the bag.
The angel boy is oilslick black in the shade of the forest canopy and his halo refuses to reflect any of the sun’s light the way it normally does. His glowing tattoos burn white against his skin and refuse to give their usual golden hue. He keeps all that light for himself and lets his anger churn there, hidden in his chest. All that rage comes boiling up when she approaches and he takes a step back, eyes narrowed and wounded for the first time.
Before, he could understand the way she retaliated against him. He let her lash out and take her vengeance but now he doesn’t understand, so he snaps his teeth right back. They both stink like betrayal but his have earned him fresh scars, glistening pink against his tar black body. There’s still blood in the corner of his mouth and he knows it’s his own. Anaxarete had not been kind, nor had Kensa. He let their teeth take whatever they wanted from him and for a brief second it gave him a different kind of pain to hold onto.
But here, in the silent forests, all he has is this slow burning ache.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he says, and his busted lip cracks painfully around the words. His spiteful core devours all the shame for now and licks its clawed fingers clean. Ophanim steps closer with his wings half spread as he stands before her, ragged teeth clenched tight together. “Do you feel powerful now? Was it everything you hoped it would be? I can’t read your mind so you’ll have to tell me in grisly detail.”
He’s grown to wish his heir didn’t read minds so easily.
He had been good, for the first time in maybe ever. He’d kept from burning down Sylva’s precious trees and he didn’t force his friendship on Sochi to pass the time a little easier. Ophanim didn’t reach out to old flames or wander the common lands for any kind of company at all. No, this sentence had given him time to reflect on all he’d done wrong and he accepted it with his head hung in shame. Meekness found him and sunk its teeth into his raw skin until Malone let the cat out of the bag.
The angel boy is oilslick black in the shade of the forest canopy and his halo refuses to reflect any of the sun’s light the way it normally does. His glowing tattoos burn white against his skin and refuse to give their usual golden hue. He keeps all that light for himself and lets his anger churn there, hidden in his chest. All that rage comes boiling up when she approaches and he takes a step back, eyes narrowed and wounded for the first time.
Before, he could understand the way she retaliated against him. He let her lash out and take her vengeance but now he doesn’t understand, so he snaps his teeth right back. They both stink like betrayal but his have earned him fresh scars, glistening pink against his tar black body. There’s still blood in the corner of his mouth and he knows it’s his own. Anaxarete had not been kind, nor had Kensa. He let their teeth take whatever they wanted from him and for a brief second it gave him a different kind of pain to hold onto.
But here, in the silent forests, all he has is this slow burning ache.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he says, and his busted lip cracks painfully around the words. His spiteful core devours all the shame for now and licks its clawed fingers clean. Ophanim steps closer with his wings half spread as he stands before her, ragged teeth clenched tight together. “Do you feel powerful now? Was it everything you hoped it would be? I can’t read your mind so you’ll have to tell me in grisly detail.”
you could drown in those eyes, i said.