between the shadows and the soul - weed

[weed]

she is the lamb; he is the slaughter

“They were stupid,” he answers curtly, although the shortness is not directed at her necessarily. It is at the way he had offered his sweetest smile, and that damned tree had alerted them of his presence; the way he had plotted for good fun and had instead been greeted with guarded smiles and ushered to the border. What could have been fun for all of them had instead been thwarted and nothing rubbed him the wrong way more than having something ruined for him. But he doesn’t feel like elaborating, doesn’t feel like rubbing salt in the wound and so he just shrugs it off, forcing himself to give a wicked smile.

“It doesn’t matter. They are but ants, and they will be the beginning.”

Because he too viewed them as but an appetizer for what would become their whole meal. They were not big enough game to sate his appetite, and he did not let his personal grievance cloud his judgement. In truth, he hungered for chaos in any form; he was not particular about which kingdom was struck by the lightning first so long as someone was struck. For now, he would gladly keep the Chamber off his radar if only because he fancied their Queen, but they both knew his loyalty was shallow at best.

He picks up on the possessive word and the vines tighten. “I am not a pet,” he snapped, his elegant voice picking up an edge as thorns began to wrap their way around the base of her leg. He considered returning the favor, but decided against it, not enjoying the way the word ‘my’ sounded on his tongue. He liked Straia, perhaps more than he had ever liked anything in his life, but only because she was so independent—so unattainable. If he felt like he could possess her, own her as he enjoyed owning others, it would no longer be pleasurable. It made him sick just thinking about her falling into that category.

“Regardless, I have ideas,” he toyed with the silence for a moment, pressing against her as he forgave her claiming of him, brushing it off easily as he moved forward into the conversation further. “Alliances are dedicate things, don’t you think?” His coal black eyes wandered to a particularly large pine tree near them, and branches began to fall from it at his narrowed gaze, the sound of them crashing to the ground enough to thrill him. “I don’t think it would take much for them to break entirely.” He tilts his head to look toward her, “One word here, a nudge here, and all of a sudden allies aren’t quite as powerful.”

With a nod, he pulled the entire tree to the ground, the base of it groaning and then cracking as loud as a gunshot, bending in half as it plummeted to the earth, sending dust up in a wild plume.

“Things are so much easier when people don’t know who to trust and who not to.”

WEED

© oscar keys