jamie
05-18-2021, 02:17 PM
jamie
I CAN’T EXACTLY DESCRIBE HOW I FEEL
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
She is the more powerful between them, he knows that.
But his fury makes him gnash his teeth. His fury makes him believe that perhaps he could overpower her. Because there is good in her where there isn’t an ounce left in him.
Because she is capable of love and compassion and Death had taken his conscience once and he still hasn’t gotten it back. He is a dark and selfish thing and this is a betrayal he doesn’t know how to forgive.
How great her power when she laughs that cold laugh and the electricity flares. The great-horned elk rear their ugly heads and the shadow-thing flares its dark nostrils, its own freakish eyes blazing.
Would he kill her?
Yes. Not because he wants to, no. But because she had betrayed him. She had not brought back the light, but she had wanted to. She wishes it had been her.
Could he kill her?
No.
He knows that.
She is the greater magician.
Those shark teeth catch the light she emits as he tilts that peculiar head when she speaks next.
Her imploring softness elicits no softnes from him. There is none. He is not a soft thing, Jamie. Is she disposable, Beyza? He had loved her for an instant. In the presence of the third daughter, love embodied. The only time he ever felt it. The only time he ever could. He is not a thing built for love, but they had been friends once.
“You betrayed me,” he hisses. And then recoils. As if she has spit acid in his face. He did not deserve it.
“How dare you,” he snaps and then lunges, teeth bared. But he does not touch her. He respects her as the stronger magician even still, despite his fury. “You owed me, Beyza, after what you took from me! After what you denied me!” His voice is amplified now not only by the echo in the canyon but by magic, too. “It is not up to you to decide what I deserve!”
But his fury makes him gnash his teeth. His fury makes him believe that perhaps he could overpower her. Because there is good in her where there isn’t an ounce left in him.
Because she is capable of love and compassion and Death had taken his conscience once and he still hasn’t gotten it back. He is a dark and selfish thing and this is a betrayal he doesn’t know how to forgive.
How great her power when she laughs that cold laugh and the electricity flares. The great-horned elk rear their ugly heads and the shadow-thing flares its dark nostrils, its own freakish eyes blazing.
Would he kill her?
Yes. Not because he wants to, no. But because she had betrayed him. She had not brought back the light, but she had wanted to. She wishes it had been her.
Could he kill her?
No.
He knows that.
She is the greater magician.
Those shark teeth catch the light she emits as he tilts that peculiar head when she speaks next.
Her imploring softness elicits no softnes from him. There is none. He is not a soft thing, Jamie. Is she disposable, Beyza? He had loved her for an instant. In the presence of the third daughter, love embodied. The only time he ever felt it. The only time he ever could. He is not a thing built for love, but they had been friends once.
“You betrayed me,” he hisses. And then recoils. As if she has spit acid in his face. He did not deserve it.
“How dare you,” he snaps and then lunges, teeth bared. But he does not touch her. He respects her as the stronger magician even still, despite his fury. “You owed me, Beyza, after what you took from me! After what you denied me!” His voice is amplified now not only by the echo in the canyon but by magic, too. “It is not up to you to decide what I deserve!”
AND IT LEAVES ME COLD