05-14-2015, 10:16 PM
so you wanna play with magic?
She knows it, too.
She can feel it in the way he speaks. She can read it in every line of his thoughts, every curve of his memory. She is the master of puppets, and he is the one longing to become the perfect tool. He is not necessarily the mastermind; he is the silent blade, deadly in the hand of one who can see his potential (her). He is the sharp point, the pointy end that sticks it to the world, driven with the force of a grand vision (her).
He had looked for it from the pink queen, the anti-glory, the fear and the terror that he sought to become. She hadn't been able to give it. Was there ever a question? Her father, the dark god himself, perhaps he could have given it.
But are we ever the equal of our parents? No, we aren't. The black magic-mare is certainly not; she's far surpassed everything that Chernobyl and Verily ever sought to be. That's the way of it: if they reach impossible heights (and who is higher than Carnage?) their children are forever doomed to fall. And if they are nothing, insane, scrabbling, whores among the dirt, then their children rise to heights so dizzying that they must become immortal or they must fall.
And so she knows, she knows before Lokii ever speaks, what it is he wants. It's written in the lines of his bones like his memory; it's written in the story of his destiny, just as surely as it's written in the lines of his body. His charm, his showiness, his explosions.
But in the midst of it all, he is confused, unsure. And she can't help but smile. Not because she considers him weak – oh no, he is not weak. But he is something that yearns to have guidance. He is that knife, and knives do not stab on their own. They are wielded, they are weapons, and they are powerful.
But they are always, always wielded.
His words pour, matching the feelings in his breast. She can almost feel it, his thirst for chaos, all the words that he isn't quite saying (but that she hears anyway). And her smile continues, a sly grin, the Cheshire cat watching Alice as she dives deeper down the rabbit hole. Is it strange, Lokii, to know that you're a chess piece here? To know that you're the one about to be used – and to know that it will be incredibly glorious, in the most chaotic of ways?
He finishes, and she laughs. "And what on earth can a queen of the lights do with that information?" her voice is thick with mock seriousness, but the smile on her lips makes it clear that she isn't serious. They both know she rules the light kingdom, but they both know that her soul is every bit as dark as his.
Around them, the world grows still as she seals them off from everyone, from everything else. Maybe she even sets them outside of time – who knows. But the seal surrounding them is absolute; their conversation is now as private as it gets. "Luckily for us, I'm a little bit more than just a queen." her smile is sly now, her velvet-smooth voice rich with humor. She's more, so much more, so impossibly much that it could never even be described. I can make you that, and you know it. she speaks directly into his mind, and his head is flooded with images that prove the truth of her words. I can, and I will. she smiles. You will be the first of a new breed, my own personal agents of chaos.
She breaks the mental connection with the suddenness of a lover wrenching away from a deep kiss. "And with that will come additional power. But there are rules, too." her face is serious. "Quid pro quo, if you will." she smiles now, small and wry, but it fades quickly and her face is serious as stone.
"You will swear to serve me. Live wherever you like, do whatever you like, I don't care. But when you are needed – and you will always know when you are needed – you will come to me and you will do as I ask." her voice is still velvet, but her words are crisp, urgent. "And above all, you will never indicate that you know me to any horse who does not also bear my mark." She pauses, letting him absorb what she's just said.
"Interested?" she says, the wry, wicked smile back in place. He is, of course he is – and they both know it.
And with his interest, the creation of her merry band of chaos has begun.
She can feel it in the way he speaks. She can read it in every line of his thoughts, every curve of his memory. She is the master of puppets, and he is the one longing to become the perfect tool. He is not necessarily the mastermind; he is the silent blade, deadly in the hand of one who can see his potential (her). He is the sharp point, the pointy end that sticks it to the world, driven with the force of a grand vision (her).
He had looked for it from the pink queen, the anti-glory, the fear and the terror that he sought to become. She hadn't been able to give it. Was there ever a question? Her father, the dark god himself, perhaps he could have given it.
But are we ever the equal of our parents? No, we aren't. The black magic-mare is certainly not; she's far surpassed everything that Chernobyl and Verily ever sought to be. That's the way of it: if they reach impossible heights (and who is higher than Carnage?) their children are forever doomed to fall. And if they are nothing, insane, scrabbling, whores among the dirt, then their children rise to heights so dizzying that they must become immortal or they must fall.
And so she knows, she knows before Lokii ever speaks, what it is he wants. It's written in the lines of his bones like his memory; it's written in the story of his destiny, just as surely as it's written in the lines of his body. His charm, his showiness, his explosions.
But in the midst of it all, he is confused, unsure. And she can't help but smile. Not because she considers him weak – oh no, he is not weak. But he is something that yearns to have guidance. He is that knife, and knives do not stab on their own. They are wielded, they are weapons, and they are powerful.
But they are always, always wielded.
His words pour, matching the feelings in his breast. She can almost feel it, his thirst for chaos, all the words that he isn't quite saying (but that she hears anyway). And her smile continues, a sly grin, the Cheshire cat watching Alice as she dives deeper down the rabbit hole. Is it strange, Lokii, to know that you're a chess piece here? To know that you're the one about to be used – and to know that it will be incredibly glorious, in the most chaotic of ways?
He finishes, and she laughs. "And what on earth can a queen of the lights do with that information?" her voice is thick with mock seriousness, but the smile on her lips makes it clear that she isn't serious. They both know she rules the light kingdom, but they both know that her soul is every bit as dark as his.
Around them, the world grows still as she seals them off from everyone, from everything else. Maybe she even sets them outside of time – who knows. But the seal surrounding them is absolute; their conversation is now as private as it gets. "Luckily for us, I'm a little bit more than just a queen." her smile is sly now, her velvet-smooth voice rich with humor. She's more, so much more, so impossibly much that it could never even be described. I can make you that, and you know it. she speaks directly into his mind, and his head is flooded with images that prove the truth of her words. I can, and I will. she smiles. You will be the first of a new breed, my own personal agents of chaos.
She breaks the mental connection with the suddenness of a lover wrenching away from a deep kiss. "And with that will come additional power. But there are rules, too." her face is serious. "Quid pro quo, if you will." she smiles now, small and wry, but it fades quickly and her face is serious as stone.
"You will swear to serve me. Live wherever you like, do whatever you like, I don't care. But when you are needed – and you will always know when you are needed – you will come to me and you will do as I ask." her voice is still velvet, but her words are crisp, urgent. "And above all, you will never indicate that you know me to any horse who does not also bear my mark." She pauses, letting him absorb what she's just said.
"Interested?" she says, the wry, wicked smile back in place. He is, of course he is – and they both know it.
And with his interest, the creation of her merry band of chaos has begun.
CAMRYNN
co-queen of the deserts, magical, mother of badassery