There are things that he conceals under his tongue, things he is afraid to let slip out between his teeth. Confessions, as it were, that could ruin him and the benevolent image he’s worked so hard to create from only smoke and sorrow. The largest of these cancerous truths, is that if he were to be honest with himself his greatest fear is that he is small; a little speck of nothing consequential like the snow that fell around them in the meadow - that he might melt into oblivion by something as basic as the heat off someone else’s breath.
That he is unimportant.
That he is nothing.
So when the ripples in the water scream out her betrayal and he sees them, when she says: “No” - it rattles him. And if he were truly a wounded animal she might have seen his fangs, then; a flash of white and saliva. It would have been easier that way. She would have at least known then that the bite was coming.
Instead, she’ll only see his unwavering devotion to the curl in one of her scars while he traces it. She asks about the mountain, but he’s already decided where they’re going - he’s already chosen to be cruel simply for the sake of it. And much like an actual god his moods rise and fall like the waves, first high and then low - or they ride in on vengeful winds that change directions in the seconds between breaths. It’s why sometimes he’s careful, why he can mind scars in one moment and caress them in the next.
“No,” he answers her, still buried in her shoulders. He’s still thinking about keeping her, but first -
When she opens her eyes she’ll be somewhere new. It will feel familiar, but not quite right - like the air around them is heavy and full of static. The Mountain is in view, but they are worlds away from its peak. The moon is low in the sky. It was always there.
“Welcome to the afterlife, Lepis.”
ELEKTRUM
how time twines around your neck,
@[Lepis]