I can see through you, see your true colors
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
She had learned well from him at least, how to throw cruel and cutting words. His eyes flash with anger but he doesn’t back away from her ruthless verbal assault or her strange divinity. He cannot deny the truth in them even though he knows they aren’t entirely accurate. There was no contradicting Aela’s brilliance and what she had done for the Pampas, something he would always be grateful for no matter how uncertain their relationship might currently be. The golden mare and her ambitious ideas had been the spark. But to imply that she was the sole reason for the Pampas success was an insult that curled tight around the serpent whose eyes now narrow in his sockets. Just as he had no idea what she had truly been up to in those months apart, neither did she.
He is no hero. He has never thought himself as one, would never claim to be one. There was an amount of shit stirring and villainy that he had taken part of and would raise his hands to it but there had been no murdering and pillaging. What they had done had been harmless, mostly. When it came down to Gale and what had been done to Aela , when he had realized what was happening around them and that those he cared for (including the stubborn wraith before him, he reluctantly acknowledges) were at risk … He would not apologize for it. Nor would he apologize for stealing Sickle. It had always been a gamble, that deal, and in the beginning he had thought her a means to an end. It had altered when the changeling child and her coat of many colors had finally broke down in front of them. Cheri had not seen the filly for herself. She hadn’t seen the tears in her confused eyes that had tugged at something unfamiliar to him, didn’t understand the mess of where the girl had come from. But he could empathize. He knew what it was like to come from a fractured family and be left alone, abandoned. And when she had whispered her wish to never see Gale again, he hadn’t blamed her for it.
He has no regrets.
If asked to do it again, he would.
So he steps to her and she laughs. That smirk spreads on his soft velvet lips, curling at the corners, even when he is drenched from the rain that suddenly smashes down on top of them. He snarls softly, bracing himself against her torrential downpour, when that voice comes from her. The snake within him writhes wildly with abhorrence and he nearly loses himself then and there but her storm keeps him centered enough and then everything stops and she crumples to the sand in front of him.
All is silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft click of scales falling in and out of place. A muscle works through his lower jaw as she speaks and for a moment it seems he might just leave her there. Again. But he doesn’t.
His pride keeps his tongue still, keeps him from saying to her “You already have" as he steps to her again and reaches out. His muzzle comes to rest lightly on her forehead, just above her wincing brow, and expels the golden light he had not touched since Obsidio’s birth. Taking the pain for himself.
He is no hero. He has never thought himself as one, would never claim to be one. There was an amount of shit stirring and villainy that he had taken part of and would raise his hands to it but there had been no murdering and pillaging. What they had done had been harmless, mostly. When it came down to Gale and what had been done to Aela , when he had realized what was happening around them and that those he cared for (including the stubborn wraith before him, he reluctantly acknowledges) were at risk … He would not apologize for it. Nor would he apologize for stealing Sickle. It had always been a gamble, that deal, and in the beginning he had thought her a means to an end. It had altered when the changeling child and her coat of many colors had finally broke down in front of them. Cheri had not seen the filly for herself. She hadn’t seen the tears in her confused eyes that had tugged at something unfamiliar to him, didn’t understand the mess of where the girl had come from. But he could empathize. He knew what it was like to come from a fractured family and be left alone, abandoned. And when she had whispered her wish to never see Gale again, he hadn’t blamed her for it.
He has no regrets.
If asked to do it again, he would.
So he steps to her and she laughs. That smirk spreads on his soft velvet lips, curling at the corners, even when he is drenched from the rain that suddenly smashes down on top of them. He snarls softly, bracing himself against her torrential downpour, when that voice comes from her. The snake within him writhes wildly with abhorrence and he nearly loses himself then and there but her storm keeps him centered enough and then everything stops and she crumples to the sand in front of him.
All is silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft click of scales falling in and out of place. A muscle works through his lower jaw as she speaks and for a moment it seems he might just leave her there. Again. But he doesn’t.
His pride keeps his tongue still, keeps him from saying to her “You already have" as he steps to her again and reaches out. His muzzle comes to rest lightly on her forehead, just above her wincing brow, and expels the golden light he had not touched since Obsidio’s birth. Taking the pain for himself.
obscene
@Cheri
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}