03-17-2017, 08:52 PM
feast.
death inspires me,
like a dog inspires a rabbit.
It is all he hears;
A growled murmur that slips through the roar of his pulse in his ears, even his terror and his pain seem to have a sound to them - a scream, then silence and nothing. The nothing is beautiful and black, deeper than an ocean and darker than the space between the stars. That is where Feast is, or has gone - far far away from the way Bruise snarls, rains blow after blow down upon him, and breathes heavily in the end.
In the end, it is the heavy breathing and the cessation of violence that brings him back to himself. How he is still standing, he cannot be sure but he is Pollock’s son (and Sinew’s) and there must be something in the gift-giver’s blood that allows his sons to remain upright, backs unbowed and spirits unbroken. He lifts his black eyes to his brother’s as he talks of loyalty and blood being thicker than water - things he understands, but in love there is also hate and they stand on a razor fine edge of it.
(Feast loves him for making him tougher, harsher but he also hates him for breaking him down so mightily and one day, he thinks to himself, one day he’ll exact his own revenge - blood or not.)
His chin tucks to his chest, over blood and scratches, as Bruise advances on him one step. That lone step is authoritative and mesmerizing - the intent is clear, the warning heeded but also pushed deep into his heart like a thorn, full of poison. In the days to come, he is certain it will fester and he’ll forever love and hate this older brother of his, no matter the cost of loyalty and blood - heavy prices to pay, but they are the gift-giver’s children and what is given can be taken away.
One day, he vows to himself as he looks up at Bruise through damp strands of forelock that spiderweb down his face. One day.
“Yes,” he states rather eloquently (and whatever vehemence ought to sour his tone is not there, though he feels it in the sharp thorny poke of his heart’s natural shudder) for one having been so thoroughly beaten as to be no better than a collared and cowed dog.
ooc: we can wrap this up for now if you like?