resurrect the saint within the wretch
He festers.
The ivory of his lips twitch in simmering rage, the muscle in his jawline pulsing as he fights to regain composure, but all the hurt and guilt have manifested themselves into this irrational anger, fierce and wild. His nostrils flare wildly to steady himself, but his eyes fixate on her again and resume their smoldering blaze as she reminds him that there is always a choice. With a sweeping step he finds himself close to her again, black-tipped ears hidden beneath a wild mane and long, spiraling horns. “Then you do something, then.” He spits through clenched teeth, throwing his head up violently and backing away.
She glows, pulsates with magic, and for a moment there is a surprised expression on the hardness of his face. His eyes narrow, a glimmer of confusion finding the dark navy of their depths as she speaks of memories, her own, as if he had violated them. Even with the threat of her looming magic he sneers at her, knowing that he was in fact correct - she speaks of what she doesn’t understand. He’s about to inform her, to tell her how wrong she truly was, and perhaps even make matters worse by making sure she understood just how this curse of his really works.
But his own mind throws a mutiny, causing the stallion to stumble and freeze as his eyes widen. Not unlike a premonition, the visions of teeth and fear run rampant, burning into the back of his mind with such a searing jolt that Warden finds himself frightened, unsure of what was happening or what he was even seeing. And then, for a beautiful moment, his mind is his own and he is able to breath only but a quick inhale before the wave hits him again, causing him to stagger backward as she infiltrates his own memories, feeding him forcefully images of the woman he had just watched suffocate to death by her own skeleton.
“Stop it!” he cries out, stepping towards her in an attempt to cease the memories that flood his mind, making his guilt all the heavier.
But she only stops when he bitterly reminds her of the future and all its impending doom.
His sides heave, his sharp eyes fixating to her with a helplessness and solemnity that is somehow darker than it had been before his vision of Brazen, finding it extremely painful that someone has seen his visions, and watched the death of a dear friend. Warden’s head is lowered in weariness, emotionally and physically, steadying his breath with deep intakes of the night air.
The sheer despair in her “why” makes Warden want to crumble into the ground and shatter, already knowing that he has no answers for her that will ease any of the pain. He cannot even tell her when it will occur, only that it will. The long pause between him holds the weight of his lack of an answer and all he can offer her is the smallest shake of his head and words that are not in the least bit comforting.
“I don’t know.”
Warden’s face hardens as it twists into a grimace, turning away from her with a shuddering inhale. “I’m sorry you had to see it.” Now it is a burden we both bear.
“The knowing is the worst.”
@[lilliana]
