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08-07-2015, 08:04 AM
[ I hope you don't mind me dragging this back to life! ]
If he hadn't known her better—
Fuck that. He didn't know her at all.
If he didn't think she always acted like a sassy, prickly bitch, he would've said she looked ashamed, or guilty. It was the way she stood, waiting—the way she looked at everything but his eyes. Her gaze roamed, from one tree to another, from his horn to his feet and back again. He saw it, the small movements, and he never felt their gazes lock. So all in all—something was up. Something was wrong. Something was weird and it wound the dark fear in his gut tighter until he felt nauseous with it, a tremble in the back of his throat (in his heart).
Finally her eyes settled on something in the distance. Perhaps it was the serpentine coil of the wall. Perhaps it was ghosts, or memory, hope and dreams.
What do you hope for, Snö? What do you dream of?
She spoke, then fell silent. Shifted; uneasy. He had a moment's cruel craving to simply stare at her in pointed silence until she finished the sentence, locked in a crucible forged from his focus, but it was just that—cruel. She was his child, godsake. If there was anyone in the world he should have kindness for, it was her.
"It goes all the way," he said, softly, stepping slightly past her to press his dark nose against its flat, smooth surface. "All the way around the hearts and minds of those who claimed to be free or prejudice." He couldn't help the bitter edge creeping into his voice, the dark twinge in his heart, the first kindling of rage starting to burn deep in the pits of his mind.
"For all my stupidity, I still think I was the lesser of the two evils that were Mirage and I."
If he hadn't known her better—
Fuck that. He didn't know her at all.
If he didn't think she always acted like a sassy, prickly bitch, he would've said she looked ashamed, or guilty. It was the way she stood, waiting—the way she looked at everything but his eyes. Her gaze roamed, from one tree to another, from his horn to his feet and back again. He saw it, the small movements, and he never felt their gazes lock. So all in all—something was up. Something was wrong. Something was weird and it wound the dark fear in his gut tighter until he felt nauseous with it, a tremble in the back of his throat (in his heart).
Finally her eyes settled on something in the distance. Perhaps it was the serpentine coil of the wall. Perhaps it was ghosts, or memory, hope and dreams.
What do you hope for, Snö? What do you dream of?
She spoke, then fell silent. Shifted; uneasy. He had a moment's cruel craving to simply stare at her in pointed silence until she finished the sentence, locked in a crucible forged from his focus, but it was just that—cruel. She was his child, godsake. If there was anyone in the world he should have kindness for, it was her.
"It goes all the way," he said, softly, stepping slightly past her to press his dark nose against its flat, smooth surface. "All the way around the hearts and minds of those who claimed to be free or prejudice." He couldn't help the bitter edge creeping into his voice, the dark twinge in his heart, the first kindling of rage starting to burn deep in the pits of his mind.
"For all my stupidity, I still think I was the lesser of the two evils that were Mirage and I."
lord, the demands you're making-
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
help the monster on two feet
walk him down the hall, repeat
and when he's strong enough to stand alone
you'll notice what big teeth . . .
