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Rain comes - quick and unnatural, the outpouring of some dark hate from a secret heart. Wind thrashes in the trees and screams through a bruised sky. The world becomes pain, dark with threat and passion, and even the ice king shouldn’t shrug it off. Rain, Vincent thinks. Bad rain. His ears paint the barest frown upon immobile features and he moves, hooves thrusting a heavy body out across the last inch between him and them, whoever they are. One is a unicorn. It laughed an ugly laughter and it made the girl do this - this rain - and made her burn so dark and pitiful against the larger world. The other, the girl, is just a horse striped tiger-fierce in the false twilight. It is beside the girl Vincent decides to interpose himself - he, also dark and fervent but too bound up, wrapped in shadows tighter than the loose bands running inky dark across her ribs. He ought to speak but the rain falls, burning, in his ears and what is there to say? To children mad with grief or rage or just drunk with their own supposed impotence, there is no answer. There is no cure. But death, he thinks, and golden eyes lock only on the frost giant in front of them. Death needs no voice; it needs show no fear in the face of storms and clouds and little shadows stained with black. He thinks of his brother’s easy strength and stands like that, tall - bigger than the unicorn. Strength needs no words to speak. It need only be a bulwark strong enough to ignore burning rain. It is. It will. He doesn’t speak, but he looks - at Mauja, and the girl - like there is something he knows and they don’t. He towers, silent and immovable. It’s easier than speaking - the easiest lie. So Vincent tells it, but outside he is a monolith of black muscle and white chrome, a mask of ears laid back and nose wrinkled in obvious disdain. You’re trash, says the silent lie. Hundkvikindi, but he doesn’t know the word, just the tone, and he doesn’t know if he’s saving the girl or what - because he doesn’t save people, because that’s a bigger lie than he knows how to tell. But he can threaten violence all day, and if they believe it maybe he can, too. Or maybe he’ll melt. |
the Rift
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just like a parasite
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| Messages In This Thread |
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just like a parasite - by Histe - 06-19-2012, 05:54 PM
RE: just like a parasite - by Mauja - 06-24-2012, 08:13 AM
RE: just like a parasite - by Histe - 06-24-2012, 01:52 PM
RE: just like a parasite - by Vincent - 06-24-2012, 08:46 PM
RE: just like a parasite - by Mauja - 06-28-2012, 02:05 PM
RE: just like a parasite - by Irc - 06-28-2012, 05:08 PM
RE: just like a parasite - by Histe - 07-03-2012, 08:24 AM
RE: just like a parasite - by Mauja - 07-08-2012, 06:06 AM
RE: just like a parasite - by Histe - 07-18-2012, 01:17 PM
RE: just like a parasite - by Mauja - 07-24-2012, 01:06 PM
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