image by deadair @ flickr.com</style> round all the pieces up, but they just don't fit the same.</style>
Her futile resistance is something that the murderer finds amusing. She dances before him like a blind puppet, so eagerly influence by her blind love of the descendant that carries him that now, when she truly cannot see, she cannot even recognize him. What kind of love is that, Knox? the steel-hearted steel-coat murmurs into the depths of that mind as its true consciousness sinks farther and farther away. Apparently she has not forgotten who Knox is: she has simply forgotten that he can never truly be trusted. He may beg, he may plead, he may insist that no matter his face he is himself, but he will never be right. He will never remember how alone he never is. “Aylin…” whispers the dark killer. His voice is tender; it sounds like the boy whom she loves, the one who led her so far from home. But it is the mind of the one who will abandon her here, blind and afraid, that truly speaks. That one word, that beautiful name, falls across her cheek like a broken promise. She asks what he is done but he will not say. It is not the murderer’s place to say. “I love you too,” he says then, cruel, mocking. With only her ears, will she know it isn’t true? Will she know she is listening to an imposter? But the words end with a bite. His teeth bare down on that perfect dark neck, splitting hairs and breaking flesh like a flower petal ripped, gently and horribly all at once. When the blood starts to drip, only then, does he let go. “Find your own way home, filly,” comes the dark voice--this time, nothing like Knox’s. “See what good light like this does you now.” Now, she will know. Now she will know what Knox will never understand or remember: this one who blinds her tonight, this one who makes her bleed, will never be her light. And then he is gone, a mere brush against her side, steel on black, as he departs. He could not be crueler to the descendant than this. This crime, this abandoning of a one true love unrecognized, is the most mortal of them all. Sometime later, perhaps hours or days, Dovev lets the form be. Knox finds Manhattan and the pair reunite: little defective colt and his dog. Where is Aylin? bonded asks. Oh, she’s coming. Knox replies, unwitting. I think she just fell behind. And in time, the rain begins its ceasing. — knox</style> |
[PRIVATE] Family
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Messages In This Thread |
RE: Family - by Aylin - 08-22-2015, 09:13 PM
RE: Family - by Knox - 08-22-2015, 09:14 PM
RE: Family - by Aylin - 08-22-2015, 09:19 PM
RE: Family - by Knox - 08-22-2015, 09:19 PM
RE: Family - by Aylin - 08-22-2015, 10:03 PM
RE: Family - by Knox - 08-22-2015, 10:19 PM
RE: Family - by Aylin - 08-22-2015, 10:59 PM
RE: Family - by Knox - 08-22-2015, 11:12 PM
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