05-20-2018, 06:22 PM
and lord, I fashion dark gods too;
It's an easy cruelty, to tell them of their uselessness, how unworthy they are. A faultline running through them – the bone-deep knowledge that they are imposters, that any day someone will come along and pull back the curtain, expose them for fools.
He is here to do just that. To pull back that curtain.
He sees the words hit, landing as solidly as any physical blow. He grins. There’s a sweetness in finding the nerve. Salt in the wound.
You lie, croaks the boy, but doubt flavors the words, and even if it didn’t, who’s he to care? He’s the god in the sky, and Warrick’s the fool on the ground.
He says it again, stronger this time, defiance languishing on the proclamation. He rises up, wings beating, as if he’s some kind of equal, as if this is something more than a mild amusement for the dark god. Carnage sighs.
Children are so damn stubborn sometimes.
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” he says, “your mother wanted my pretty colors and my power. She got a bit of each with you – not much, but still.”
He pauses. Another handful of salt.
“Your little girlfriend, though – she got more with her brat, didn’t she? I don’t remember much of Orani – forgettable – but Tang, she just kept coming back…”
He pauses.
“Still think I’m lying, I’m sure. Want to see? Here, son, let me show you –”
He projects the images into the sky, shows Orani, but only briefly – he recalls so little of her – but lingers long enough so her identity is unquestionable, and then shows Tang, how she’d come to him, seeing him as a god – and then she’d come back, his willing captive. He cuts away from the most intimate acts – he’s not crass - but he lingers on the aftermath, when his teeth had cut into her neck, the way the blood had blossomed on her withers.
“Everything you’ve had,” he says, “was mine first. You owe your very existence to me. You should thank me, really.”
c a r n a g e
tl;dr
carnage: "yeah im your dad" *projects softcore porn into the sky*