<lj-raw><table align="center" border="0" background="http://i.imgur.com/zdtm1.png" width="500" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0"><tr><td><center></td></tr><tr><div align="center"><font size="4" face="times new roman" color="black"> <i>lord, I fashion dark gods too;</i>
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He is not one for love stories.
He has too often seen promising creatures felled by their desires, made soft in their wanting. It is a thing best excised, cut from the self like a cancer.
(And that he, the dark god, made a world for a woman to inhabit rather than let her stay dead; that he’s taken another one to the stars to see how she might take to it – this is irrelevant.)
He is in the dregs of his stardust, the season ending, when he manifests before them. He had been on the mountain, but invisible, preferring not to be bothered. Yet these two didn’t need to behold him to be bothersome, their whining permeating through the peace of the mountaintop.
He could have muted them, or soundproofed the world around himself. But the dark god does not accommodate others – they accommodate him.
So he makes himself known in a blast of smoke, a star-drenched god rather than the fairy Ophanim had originally implored. He sighs, audibly, and shakes his head at the paltriness of their pain.
“You’re both fools,” he says, “and could do with a lesson.”
He pauses, there. He doesn’t introduce himself – he always assumes he needs no such thing, and besides, they don’t need his name to know his wrath, his cruelty. He has them frozen, unable to fight, unable to try to save one another.
He looks at the woman, first.
“You want to show him your heart, hm? So precious.”
He reaches into her, an invisible hand, finds the heart in question. Pulls. She falls to her knees, her chest exploding open, the heart on the dirt before them, managing a few limp beats before falling still. He keeps Starsin alive, though – killing is much too easy. He prefers theatrics.
“Look, Ophanim,” he says, and that same invisible hand turns the man’s face toward the heart, “there’s her precious heart that’s all yours! Doesn’t look like much to me…maybe yours is better?”
He repeats the process, the same graphic pull, the same muscle beating and dying on the ground while its owner, impossibly, lives on, kept alive by magic. The dark god doesn’t bother with killing the pain, though – he lets them suffer.
“All this whining,” he sighs, “all for some stupid piece of muscle. But you two, you’re in <i>love</i>--”
The word is said in mockery, derision.
“So who gets what shouldn’t matter then, should it?”
Starsin’s heart into Ophanim’s chest, and vice versa. He closes the wounds, though is not precise in doing so – they may be scarred, but what of it? Perhaps such scars will be a useful reminder of their foolishness.
He takes a moment and admires his own handiwork. The earth is faintly bloodstained, and the two horses before him scarred, with new, strange hearts in their chest, cursed to feel one another’s pain.
He unfreezes them before another blast of smoke, and then he is gone, leaving them and their foolish hearts.
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(y'all please holler if you want anything changed)
</font></div></td></tr><tr><td><table align="center" border="0" width="90%" cellpadding="10" cellspacing="0"><tr><td><font size="2" face="times new roman" color="#eee"><div align="justify">
He is not one for love stories.
He has too often seen promising creatures felled by their desires, made soft in their wanting. It is a thing best excised, cut from the self like a cancer.
(And that he, the dark god, made a world for a woman to inhabit rather than let her stay dead; that he’s taken another one to the stars to see how she might take to it – this is irrelevant.)
He is in the dregs of his stardust, the season ending, when he manifests before them. He had been on the mountain, but invisible, preferring not to be bothered. Yet these two didn’t need to behold him to be bothersome, their whining permeating through the peace of the mountaintop.
He could have muted them, or soundproofed the world around himself. But the dark god does not accommodate others – they accommodate him.
So he makes himself known in a blast of smoke, a star-drenched god rather than the fairy Ophanim had originally implored. He sighs, audibly, and shakes his head at the paltriness of their pain.
“You’re both fools,” he says, “and could do with a lesson.”
He pauses, there. He doesn’t introduce himself – he always assumes he needs no such thing, and besides, they don’t need his name to know his wrath, his cruelty. He has them frozen, unable to fight, unable to try to save one another.
He looks at the woman, first.
“You want to show him your heart, hm? So precious.”
He reaches into her, an invisible hand, finds the heart in question. Pulls. She falls to her knees, her chest exploding open, the heart on the dirt before them, managing a few limp beats before falling still. He keeps Starsin alive, though – killing is much too easy. He prefers theatrics.
“Look, Ophanim,” he says, and that same invisible hand turns the man’s face toward the heart, “there’s her precious heart that’s all yours! Doesn’t look like much to me…maybe yours is better?”
He repeats the process, the same graphic pull, the same muscle beating and dying on the ground while its owner, impossibly, lives on, kept alive by magic. The dark god doesn’t bother with killing the pain, though – he lets them suffer.
“All this whining,” he sighs, “all for some stupid piece of muscle. But you two, you’re in <i>love</i>--”
The word is said in mockery, derision.
“So who gets what shouldn’t matter then, should it?”
Starsin’s heart into Ophanim’s chest, and vice versa. He closes the wounds, though is not precise in doing so – they may be scarred, but what of it? Perhaps such scars will be a useful reminder of their foolishness.
He takes a moment and admires his own handiwork. The earth is faintly bloodstained, and the two horses before him scarred, with new, strange hearts in their chest, cursed to feel one another’s pain.
He unfreezes them before another blast of smoke, and then he is gone, leaving them and their foolish hearts.
</div></font></td></tr></table></td></tr><center><font size="1" face="tahoma" color="darkred">
</font></center></td></tr><tr><td></td></tr></table></lj-raw>
(y'all please holler if you want anything changed)