oh, this my weapon, this my loam. this my blood, this my bone.
It almost doesn’t feel fair that her body burns with anger while he remains so cold. He wishes that he could light on fire the way that she does; he wishes that he could give himself over to that kind of heat and just let it erupt in his chest. Instead he grows more and more sullen, encasing himself in an armor of his own self-loathing, turning prickly and mean and wishing he could be anyone but himself.
She continues to move toward him and the heat becomes unmistakable as the distance closes. Every inch of his prey mind tells himself to run away, to protect himself, but his stubborn streak is louder than his instinct of survival and he just grinds his heels down further, biting down so that the muscles in his jaw jump. “You’re not doing a very good job of hiding yourself then,” he retorts to her confession, and even if he couldn’t feel the very heat coming off of her in waves, he would believe her. He would believe her.
His lips pull back into a slight sneer as she pulls back, wondering why the distance that should feel like a victory rings so hollow in his bones. “The rest of us,” he repeats and the words taste bitter. “Do you not often deign to be around us lowly folk?” Something defiant flashes in his eyes and his wings shift at his sides, turning from their red feathers into black carbon, dark and dangerous and as heavy at his sides as his heart feels in his chest. “How lucky I must be to have earned the honor of your presence then.”
He hates himself for the harshness of his words.
He hates himself for the way that he lashes out at her, the way his own fury weaponizes when he knows that the only one who deserves it is himself. But he can’t stop. He can’t and he knows that he is far from the son that his parents raised. The shame burns worse than she ever could and his eyes flash away as he struggles to keep his composure. “I’m hiding from myself,” he finally admits because it’s only fair that he give her some kind of weapon to tear him apart with. “And I’m doing an even worse job than you.”
@[Brinly]