[open] flint strikes out to pierce the dark, cause a flame from just one spark - anyone

[Bardot]

Bardot

I know what sin is

She does not understand that invisible pull to dark things, that insatiable need to prove to herself that despite all those cold shadows in the darkest of hearts lay a kernel of hope (of light) in each troubling soul she finds. It made it ok to care for them, she reasons, if she could find something redeeming in each of them. A wiser person would inform her of childhood trauma, the mark her parents had made on her. Daddy issues for lack of a better term. She is deaf and blind to this psychological logic and so she simply passes over the thoughts of how not normal this, ignoring every red flag and every warning sign because she thinks she can handle anything anyone could ever throw at her. If she is always willing, nothing can ever be taken from her. His smile is sharp and far from warm when he turns her down again and she merely shrugs again. In her golden eyes, he is a moody sort of man. A different kind of “dark” then what she had experienced in the likes of Tunnel with his unspoken promises to break her or the deceptive handsome smile of Molech. If anything Dacian would eventually remind her of the broody brother she had yet to meet amongst his court of flowers, whose words could fall just as sharply as the armored stallion’s smile. She had expected his "no" to be a clear dismissal so she is unable to hide the surprise in her eyes when he strides towards her, looking up at him when he comes to stand directly before her. Water sloshes around her belly, splashes against her shoulders, but she stays where she is. She wonders what he is looking for, when he scans her face. She is searching too and bites her lower lip, unsure of what exactly she has found. It is not fear that slides down her spine when he asks if she is alone although there is a thrill of trepidation to be asked such a question. She glances to her left and then her right before looking back up at him, a whisper of a smile still lingering on her lips despite the sharpness that now narrows her gaze as she meets that unreadable gaze. “So it would seem.”

They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;

html © dante.

@Dacian