jamie
02-11-2024, 02:09 PM
jamie
There is no hiding this: the reaper has no heart, he never did. Where there should have been love, there has only ever been fog. But he goes on grinning, delighting in her excitement.
Perhaps he had been moved to softness by the birth of the Fates. Perhaps that was why he had fashioned for them those shadow-things. Because they were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen and he and the white magician had made them together.
And then?
When they had gone, he had made the nymphs and banished them simply for the satisfaction of it. They were beautiful, certainly, but they were not the Fates. How he had ached for those unnatural, otherworldly things! But why had he done it, really? Why had he ventured into the depths of hell to cobble that hideous creature together?
The answer is simple: he’d wanted to hurt them. All of them. The girls and their mother. He’d wanted to say, ‘look what I created, see how easy it is to destroy it’.
He wonders if she imagines the sister might be beautiful, as they are. He could summon her, he thinks, that abomination he’d dragged from hell. He could show Maurtia exactly what he’d done, but he doesn’t. Not yet.
“Her name is Miseria,” he tells the necromancer, head tilted. What would she think if he did summon the thing? Would she be repulsed or delighted by the blood that cut rivers down the thing’s cheeks? “She’s most like you,” he says. “She, too, is a thing of death.”
Perhaps he had been moved to softness by the birth of the Fates. Perhaps that was why he had fashioned for them those shadow-things. Because they were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen and he and the white magician had made them together.
And then?
When they had gone, he had made the nymphs and banished them simply for the satisfaction of it. They were beautiful, certainly, but they were not the Fates. How he had ached for those unnatural, otherworldly things! But why had he done it, really? Why had he ventured into the depths of hell to cobble that hideous creature together?
The answer is simple: he’d wanted to hurt them. All of them. The girls and their mother. He’d wanted to say, ‘look what I created, see how easy it is to destroy it’.
He wonders if she imagines the sister might be beautiful, as they are. He could summon her, he thinks, that abomination he’d dragged from hell. He could show Maurtia exactly what he’d done, but he doesn’t. Not yet.
“Her name is Miseria,” he tells the necromancer, head tilted. What would she think if he did summon the thing? Would she be repulsed or delighted by the blood that cut rivers down the thing’s cheeks? “She’s most like you,” he says. “She, too, is a thing of death.”
so darkness i became
