08-24-2020, 12:10 AM
no matter what they say, I am still the king
There will never be a time he pleases everyone. His magic will never deign to be the deciding piece in happiness. He erases what should be, to only replace it with what should not. He can do no more, and no less. Your distaste is palpable, something to roll along his tongue (and bask in the enjoyment, should he be a man of that honor). He cannot say he is happy with this- he was simply waiting for your smile.
Yet, it will never come. There is no need for magic to feel the distaste that treads from your tongue. Your smile has washed out with the shore, there is only the languid dissatisfaction. The recoil of wretchedness. The realization that once was, will never be. You have grown into something spiteful - you are all teeth and sharp edges, a call to the nightmares and stench of death.
You offer him a solace - a happy ending if there weren’t magic thrumming through his veins. Tear him to pieces, if you could. Give him the finale that the universe has begged for. Lick his blood from your lips and flick his flesh from your teeth. He has no bark nor bite left - his lunge for the throat has been left in the back room, as his heart yearns for nothing but the ever-shifting pitch black of the universe.
You are a smiling disaster - a universe of tinged teeth and curved lips. You are shattered just as easily (and he thought this was something that was long left behind). But there is truth in your words, as your dastardly facade fades away. The monster inside you melts - his blood drying on your lips as you deign to say what you truly feel. It is a rare occurrence - but there is a stretch in his feelings, the heavy drift that he knows what he has done wrong. (Such a vague word - wrong- but one so palpable). There are things you cannot undo, there are moments that cannot be taken back.
Your voice wrecks upon his memories, and the shadow over his heart clears - everyone always leaves. Mostly, they never come back. Your head is hardly shrouded, it is all too easy to pick through like the carrion birds that should have been feasting upon his bones. For once, he is too kind to pry. Instead (for once) he only listens.
“I came back.” It is a quiet statement (not an apology, but something still serene). What would it be like to never be able to leave, when others have left? He had always been able to create a rift between here and himself - he had never needed permission to leave this plane and enter another. But you - you had no choice. ”Nothing happened. I got bored.” And the sweetness of him fades - and the fierceness follows back, the truth that will never truly wash out. “They could have stayed, no?” Because everyone has a choice, right?
”Now what?” And he presents her with a future - a possibility - a moment that stretches into time.
Yet, it will never come. There is no need for magic to feel the distaste that treads from your tongue. Your smile has washed out with the shore, there is only the languid dissatisfaction. The recoil of wretchedness. The realization that once was, will never be. You have grown into something spiteful - you are all teeth and sharp edges, a call to the nightmares and stench of death.
You offer him a solace - a happy ending if there weren’t magic thrumming through his veins. Tear him to pieces, if you could. Give him the finale that the universe has begged for. Lick his blood from your lips and flick his flesh from your teeth. He has no bark nor bite left - his lunge for the throat has been left in the back room, as his heart yearns for nothing but the ever-shifting pitch black of the universe.
You are a smiling disaster - a universe of tinged teeth and curved lips. You are shattered just as easily (and he thought this was something that was long left behind). But there is truth in your words, as your dastardly facade fades away. The monster inside you melts - his blood drying on your lips as you deign to say what you truly feel. It is a rare occurrence - but there is a stretch in his feelings, the heavy drift that he knows what he has done wrong. (Such a vague word - wrong- but one so palpable). There are things you cannot undo, there are moments that cannot be taken back.
Your voice wrecks upon his memories, and the shadow over his heart clears - everyone always leaves. Mostly, they never come back. Your head is hardly shrouded, it is all too easy to pick through like the carrion birds that should have been feasting upon his bones. For once, he is too kind to pry. Instead (for once) he only listens.
“I came back.” It is a quiet statement (not an apology, but something still serene). What would it be like to never be able to leave, when others have left? He had always been able to create a rift between here and himself - he had never needed permission to leave this plane and enter another. But you - you had no choice. ”Nothing happened. I got bored.” And the sweetness of him fades - and the fierceness follows back, the truth that will never truly wash out. “They could have stayed, no?” Because everyone has a choice, right?
”Now what?” And he presents her with a future - a possibility - a moment that stretches into time.
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in