.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
01-23-2016, 07:20 PM
Erebos
There was something about the way she seemed totally impenetrable that irked him.She was too young to remain blank faced at the sight of danger, at the stories of monsters and mayhem. She was too young to think the world was full of pure, beatific whims and caprice; that everything would have a happy ending and peace would ignite.
Why did she get to traipse through realms and empires without fear, without terror, without horror? Why did she get to wander into terrible, deceitful lairs and come out unscathed? Why did she get to notch an arrow and escape a ghostly, delusional reverie?
He didn’t understand the bitterness, the rancor flowing through his veins; it was toxic and indulgent, venomous and clawing, rasping and grating within his mind like a devilish hiss, like a demonic croon. The prince had been entitled and privileged, just like her, only caught between lessons and stories and myths and silly, ineffectual things – dreams of being a warrior, dreams of being a legend, dreams of power and strength and fortitude. But those articles had come at a price, because he’d seen his friends die, he’d watched them disappear, he’d lost all these bits and pieces tying him together that he truly didn’t know who he was anymore – just a vengeful, resentful cretin lurking behind a charismatic grin.
Maybe he simply wanted her to crumble, the way he had, to show there was vulnerability everywhere and in everything – and if he could find it, he could pluck it and lacerate it and leave the world in disheveled, molten pieces.
But if he couldn’t get a filly to cower in his presence, then the Colossus certainly wouldn’t.
So he continued playing, he embedded himself into the horrible, soulless game, embraced Ode’s acting and pretenses, labored in the connection between Orsino and himself. As they danced along the edge of a knife, as they reeled and courted impending disaster, the boy delved into a stage they’d created and concocted, lowering his blade to try and drive through a monster that wasn’t real (and if he imagined it as the painted brute, what would happen? Would it satisfy and content him, even when this charade went up in smoke?), maneuvering away from the shiny figment of an arrow blazing through the sky, narrowing his eyes, his stare, for a fraction of a second to look at a girl who didn’t acknowledge fear.
He did. He knew apprehension. He knew trepidation. He’d felt it when Arwen was murdered, when Asch disappeared, when Aithniel said she was a child of the Sun God, when they marched into battle, when he lost to Ashamin within a labyrinth beguiling his own demise. And he hated her for it – because she didn’t seem to understand the weight, the impact, of what terror could do, of how it destroyed, of how it altered, of how it fed and fueled and incensed, twisting and annihilating, distorting and crumbling.
The boy beckoned to Orsino as the image of the famed demon flickered and faltered; the sable kitsune nestled within the bushes concocted a dying, heady scream and allowed the image to stumble and quiver on the ground. But it wasn’t an admittance of defeat – something else brewed, stirred, between both menacing minds, and the prince swiftly glanced to his kin, nodding in assurance that all was well when it wasn’t, when he conspired and deluded. “Wow, good job! It’s dead!” His gaze enclosed upon the girl’s, a fake smile plastered along his lips, hoof prodding the empty carcass for another measure –
And then he looked beyond, and stoked the fires of Orsino’s invocations.
More and more of the shadowy, feline fixtures suddenly appeared, slithering and sliding, immersed in a predatory crawl, slinking towards the filly and Ode, unwinding in a sinister wake, in a callous, hungry, ravenous ploy. They growled and hissed, roared and defied, promising to pierce, to puncture, to destroy (if they’d been real, if they’d been more than figments of a boy and his malicious intentions). Eventually, they all appeared to be surrounded by this force of mythos, and dear Erebos allowed his jaw to drop, his stare to reel, his movements to quake closer to them. “Watch out,” he cried amidst the madness, “They’re everywhere!”
I'LL SHOW YOU HOW GOD | FALLS ASLEEP ON THE JOB
Image Credits
Image Credits
