jamie
from the destruction, out of the flame
She smiles, Beyza.
Makes herself semi-solid to do it.
And he remembers how she had passed through him, how their soft edges had created the most glorious color. Some deep fog. He remembers what he had felt then, too, but does not call upon the memory of it now. There is no sense in it.
He merely watches.
And he understands that there is more to their smiles than either of them are saying. They each know things that they had not known before. He can sense the darkness in her. They had traveled through it together.
But the darkness has always lived in him. He has always known it was there. And his home had shown him exactly what he is capable of. Destruction, absolute ruin. He does not understand it the same way she does, though -- she understands that he is Death while he understands that he merely belongs to it.
“I have known pain my whole life,” he muses, though she already knows this. She, the only one who has ever tried to save him from it. “But the pain of being ripped from my home is perhaps the worst I have ever felt.” There is something wistful in his tone when he turns his gaze to the horizon, like he might see the shimmer there, too.
you need a villain, give me a name
