risk
His eyes are melancholy and wrathful all at once, a desperate lava flow that would rather enjoy consuming everything in its path. When she dares him and suggests she could still be his enemy, though, he can only shrug his broad shoulders dismissively. Maybe if he died another time, he could wake up at home with his family. Maybe his birth parents would be there waiting for him. There is still a blur of Virgo’s face leaning down to kiss him somewhere in the echoing abyss of his thoughts. But then she’s revealing her true shape and he watches curiously as her eyes become a bright silver – like a knife, like a promise.
“Should I guess your name, then? I would wager something like Stray,” he says, and for the first time he laughs. The sound is surprisingly like summer rains before it dies to silence once more. Death is no kind companion. He would like to agree, but he’s begun to wonder if it’s better than no companion at all. “Death is what we make of it and nothing else. A beginning, an end, whatever.”
The blue and green of his eyes study her for a while as she digests his words like a modest feast. His head tilts and he wants to ask what could ever be worse than being alone, but he doesn’t. Loneliness has always eaten straight to the core of him and picked its teeth with his sorrows. Even in the fleeting seconds after Virgo left and before Kensa came, he had learned to become hollow and lost inside. He had learned the ceaseless aches of solitude all too well. Risk swallows hard and blinks.
The shambling skeleton of his soul considers reaching out and touching her but he bites it back just as he did his wrath. Though there is no blind rage within him, there is likewise no ravenous kindness to be found.
“Are we unlovable, you think?” he finally asks, his voice soft despite the burning question. Risk is quick to avert his eyes from her gaze before she can answer and he focuses instead on the swaying branches of the trees nearby. He doesn’t think he could stand to see an honest stare at this point.
“Should I guess your name, then? I would wager something like Stray,” he says, and for the first time he laughs. The sound is surprisingly like summer rains before it dies to silence once more. Death is no kind companion. He would like to agree, but he’s begun to wonder if it’s better than no companion at all. “Death is what we make of it and nothing else. A beginning, an end, whatever.”
The blue and green of his eyes study her for a while as she digests his words like a modest feast. His head tilts and he wants to ask what could ever be worse than being alone, but he doesn’t. Loneliness has always eaten straight to the core of him and picked its teeth with his sorrows. Even in the fleeting seconds after Virgo left and before Kensa came, he had learned to become hollow and lost inside. He had learned the ceaseless aches of solitude all too well. Risk swallows hard and blinks.
The shambling skeleton of his soul considers reaching out and touching her but he bites it back just as he did his wrath. Though there is no blind rage within him, there is likewise no ravenous kindness to be found.
“Are we unlovable, you think?” he finally asks, his voice soft despite the burning question. Risk is quick to avert his eyes from her gaze before she can answer and he focuses instead on the swaying branches of the trees nearby. He doesn’t think he could stand to see an honest stare at this point.