Prometheus

and Pyr

I hide a scowl with a simpering twist of my lips, the glaring blindness of my eyes seeming to grow brighter as I stare, meeting the Reaper’s chilling gaze as an equal (for I have seen death, my brother; I am not untouched by his shriveled, greedy hand, nor am I ignorant to his crimson smile and devilish gaze. I have met death, and here I live—what greater power could have made it so, but the hand of the gods?) Does that not make me godly, as well?

Almost absentmindedly, I wonder how familiar the North’s dark lord is with the very threat he possesses, how intimate he has come to be with the very essence that has become him. Has he encountered death? Does he know the infernal beast, the daemon, that he draws so close to the crux of his soul?

With a ghoulish grin creeping along the line of my soft, perfect lips, I incline my long horn to the dark stallion, never allowing my eyes to wander from his. “Very well, Lord Deimos,” the words are stiffer than I’d like them to be, betraying the frustration that boils and festers beneath this thin, handsome surface. I have tasted power and greatness—to begin now, at the bottom of the pit, is something I do not have patience for. It is your cautioning, brother, that manages to curb my chagrin, and once again (a moment among millions), I am grateful for your companionship. I will never forsake you again.

‘Thank you, brother.’

With the heat of your flames on my shoulder, I breathe into the wintry space between the Reaper and I, grinning as the unfamiliar bite of air flows through dead and putrid organs. I consider his words, debating for a moment the possibility of returning to my craft, remembering my days among the sand-spitters as their forger, and how it had given me such power. But by the tiniest point of your indecision—the faintest ripple between our bond—the probability shatters, piercing my mind and soul as it falls. The memories are too clear, too vivid, too painful. The metal as it had burned, the sound of your suppressed cries, the acrid smell of your burning flesh, and the scars that now stand testament to my selfish folly.

Why is it so hard to forget? Why is it still easier to forget, than to forgive?

‘I have forgiven you, brother.’

I know, and so you have told me time and time again. But perhaps it is not your forgiveness that I now need—

All the same, I cannot bear to relive my madness, and I cannot bear to be a fool again. From beneath the remains of my folly, I rise again with you at my side, and together, will we be glorious. Enlivened by this thought, I straighten, my determination bolstered by your own confidence in me—in us. “I believe I will be of most use as a spy, then,” I speak smoothly now, acid words coated in velvet and satin. I see no point in pushing him; I understand an unmoving force when it is met, and if this is the path we must take to rise again, then so be it.

Arcing my leonine tail behind me in one smooth motion, I lean my weight forward, reaching with a cloven hoof to cut into the Basin’s borders. I feel a thrill spark through my body, giving it a form of life that no mortal could understand. If there is any empire strong enough to support dominance, then surely it is this one. “It is an honor to be under the great mountains once again,” I purr to the dark stallion, a touch of devil shadowing my smile.


notes; So I hit a wall for a month and then boom! Muse =O -crosses fingers it won't disappear-
“Speech.”