10-22-2021, 10:58 AM
You twist, I turn, who's the first to burn?
You sit and stay, I don't obey.
It is a vicious guilt to live with, that of taking life. Even if it had been life that deserved taking, how much farther is it to fall to take one that does not deserve it? His brothers had never hesitated to do so. And now, he fears the numbness that grows in the wake of such violence. He fears the shift that has taken place inside him.She is far too good for him. He knows it without doubt. She had given so much to bring him here, and he has been selfish in their friendship. What has she gained from it? Nothing but a poor friend who could so easily turn into a beast.
At first her words don’t quite cut through the miasma of despair that threatens him. The words are sharp enough to slice, but he has spent a lifetime resisting. She refuses to allow him to keep it however, her body shifting in his peripheral until she forces his eyes to meet hers. His skin feels too tight across his bones, but he doesn’t drop her gaze. He would give her this honor at least.
But he can only blink when her words finally register. He wants to step back, but his legs don’t move. There is steel in her voice despite the softness of her words. Still, he can only shake his head. He has spent his entire life believing in something better, yet somehow her belief in him defies all logic.
Monsters don’t feel remorse, she declares, and he wonders if that is what this is. He has always felt so much, and in a world where emotions are beaten out of one in childhood, he had made sure to never express them. But they had remained, confusing and defiant. Is the heaviness in his chest, the chill in his bones, remorse?
“How can you be so certain?” he replies, his voice thick, almost inaudible.
He startles at her touch. Not because it is unwelcome, but because he is so unused to it. He looks at her, surprised, only to find that she is now avoiding his gaze. She insists the eclipse is over and he has nothing to worry about, but he is hardly paying attention. After a moment, he reaches out and brushes his nose against her neck in return. There is something almost comforting in such a simple touch. Touch not filled with violence. It sends a shiver racing along his skin, as though he is doing something illicit.
Pulling away, Voracious peers at her with a troubled gaze. She had been his first friend. Perhaps his only friend. “Why do you believe in me so much?” he asks abruptly, unable to keep his baffled curiosity to himself. His wings wilt slightly when he adds, “I have done nothing to deserve it.”
Voracious
@Aislyn