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“That is by no means my problem, and though I would help you, I have a hunch you would sooner slit your own throat.”
I chuckled hoarsely in mild humor, it was painful making my lungs move like that. Lift and rise, fill with air that came screeching inside with the force of a bloated runaway steed. He had no clue, absolutely no clue. There was little hate between us, little to be measured in that sense our minds compared to others. Fate had placed me upon this threshold and by damn I was going to walk the line until its end. Another image came suddenly upon my frontal vision; his memories sinking into thick emptiness that had never gotten a chance for filling up with anything beyond despair. My nose was bleeding from one side, the left side I think—because it was the side that tickled.
His smiling face came forward, making my cringe outwardly. Then, in a voice that was too soft to be my own said, “You’re wrong about that little wind chaser.” Those were his words, not mine. Not this Midas, this Midas knew little about tenderness, and even less about love. For a moment I stood by, awestruck at what had just passed.
Then.
It snapped.
The final cord of sanity, I flung my head up—eyes widened to their core and lips curved into a snarl. No matter how much he made it hurt, this pup was going to die. Or else I would never be the same. “You are his spawn? His blood?” Yes, I reasoned- he would die tonight. Under the merciless moon.
Without bothering to say anything more I call upon the sand below us, rushing it to the surface. I would incase this bitch of a whelp, this beautiful cherub that he-no we, loved so much. Granules of dirt flew up around us, they rushed to him in a wave that would likely conceal me from view and garnish his ability to see anything that wasn’t sand. My element would attempt to rush across his frame, to enclose him in the golden mass. Legs, body, wings, neck, head, tail. Everything.
It would circle him and make a crushing tomb that would pressurize seconds later; break those wings, then the lungs, his head would follow. Like a constricting snake wrapping around its prey, I laughed—but even to my ears it sounded shallow. Wings extended and the armor that was my gift and second element folded out and over, stretching across my frame silver plate by silver plate. |
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