jamie
04-20-2021, 10:32 PM
jamie
I CAN’T EXACTLY DESCRIBE HOW I FEEL
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
There is no doubt that she is the more powerful magician and she breaks his hold on her with ease, expelling him with a sharp snap of electricity.
(And perhaps if he were anyone else this would have served to remind him who she was, who they were -- friends, at the very least and even more than that at the most. But he is Jamie, a dark thing.)
This sharp jolt serves only to compound his rage and he flashes those ink-black teeth as he continues to advance.
(Does it pain him worse to hear her say she wishes it had been her?)
Even in this blinding light (how he has always hated it!) the shadows converge and take the shapes of two great-horned elk that flank him as he advances through the canyon. He does not expect her to allow him to bear down on her without a fight, but what will he do when he reaches her?
Would he kill her if she let him?
Would he leave his children without a mother?
(Curiously he does not think about the three perfect daughters now.)
There had been a time when he had been something other, something strange and timid and he had been confused when she’d called him the Reaper. But there is no confusion left. She made him this.
He draws a dense fog down around them, blocking out the sunlight. There is no comfort in it now, not like there had been that day when he had met their daughters and he had urged her to rest and there had been the unspoken implication that he would protect them.
“Will you make me kill you, Beyza?” he asks, the rabid anger in his tone replaced by the same old eerie fog. “Oh, Beyza, don’t.”
(And perhaps if he were anyone else this would have served to remind him who she was, who they were -- friends, at the very least and even more than that at the most. But he is Jamie, a dark thing.)
This sharp jolt serves only to compound his rage and he flashes those ink-black teeth as he continues to advance.
(Does it pain him worse to hear her say she wishes it had been her?)
Even in this blinding light (how he has always hated it!) the shadows converge and take the shapes of two great-horned elk that flank him as he advances through the canyon. He does not expect her to allow him to bear down on her without a fight, but what will he do when he reaches her?
Would he kill her if she let him?
Would he leave his children without a mother?
(Curiously he does not think about the three perfect daughters now.)
There had been a time when he had been something other, something strange and timid and he had been confused when she’d called him the Reaper. But there is no confusion left. She made him this.
He draws a dense fog down around them, blocking out the sunlight. There is no comfort in it now, not like there had been that day when he had met their daughters and he had urged her to rest and there had been the unspoken implication that he would protect them.
“Will you make me kill you, Beyza?” he asks, the rabid anger in his tone replaced by the same old eerie fog. “Oh, Beyza, don’t.”
AND IT LEAVES ME COLD
@[Beyza]