Stand face to face with your god
He recoils. He draws away from her so suddenly that her breath hitches violently in the long column of her throat. Anger flares sharp and bright in the cavern of her chest, displeased with the way he has pulled away from her. This the most unsettling thing of all.
She can feel the way he shivers even from a distance. As if he is cowering. As if she has sunk her dragon’s teeth into the meat of his flesh and made him hurt. She is impervious to the cold, oblivious to it, unaware of whatever has changed in her on a cellular level. She bares her teeth.
His question sounds like a plea, which serves only to compound the anger that festers in the pit of her gut as she moves to eradicate the space he has wedged between them. She does not touch him again, though. As if there is so part of her that understands that she has done something to harm him, even without meaning to.
The dragon heart beats out something dark and ugly as she studies him through the crushing darkness. The fear nagging at the base of her skull feeds her anger. How she despises weakness and fear, she thinks, is the greatest weakness of all. There is nothing here worth being afraid of except that her beloved brother had recoiled from her and been reduced to something that quivered. The sound of his yelp echoes dully in her head. How she hates it!
“What have you done?” she asks, an altogether different question than the one he’d asked her. She is not immune to her anger, cannot swallow it down and spare him from it, does not know how to protect him from all of the darkest parts of her. So she cannot stop herself from blaming him.
@[obelisk]