[mature] chew it up and swallow it.

[vulgaris]

VulgariS

take me, take me back to your bed. i love you so much that it hurts my head.
say, i don't mind you under my skin. oh, let the bad parts in, the bad parts in.

When his first child was born, he had felt nothing. His own father used to speak of the joy and the warmth that came the day each of children were born from Dillan. Vulgaris had expected all that love to fill the holes in his heart and banish the void from his soul, but it left him emptier than ever. The day Cellar came home with him, all scrawny with boy hips and wide eyes, he felt bitter. He sculpted her into a servant, a killer for the highest bidder. But the day Adna was born, he tucked all that darkness away and finally understood what Larva meant about absolute happiness. Everything seemed to click into place for the first time once he looked into her eyes.

But the roles have reversed. All that light and love has been shackled and gagged, left to rot in the recesses of who he truly is beneath all the masks. Those pieces of him grit their teeth until it bleeds when they see Adna, snap their own arms to try and remove the chains keeping them in place. Vulgaris would crawl on his belly across miles of broken glass for her and he wouldn’t even hesitate to do it.

The beast lifts its head, watches her as more blood and burnt skin drops from his jaws as he tries to understand why she calls him Dad. His head tilts a little too far as he considers her. The memories of her manage to convey one thing: protect. Yes, this one is to be guarded at all costs. He moves closer to her, trampling the little black marble corpse with a sickening snap of her bones as the acid finally finishes its work. He bumps his nose against her cheek, swiping a smear of blood across her perfect face as he does so.

His body quickly heals the ruined lips as best it can but his teeth remain exposed in a permanent ghoulish smile. His sage green eyes find hers and he wonders if this one is his child. The name gets all the way to the tip of his tongue before the pain looms over the back of his skull, ready to strike if he gets too close to that memory. He must assume, then, and use only titles.

“Daughter,” he says, brows briefly wrinkling in agitation. He wants to remember her, wants to know why she inspires this warm feeling in his chest, but Vulgaris knows the moment her name leaves his tongue it’ll be bashed right out of his skull again. “Can’t.. remember..”

The pain has grown too great and he must look away now. His eyes shut tight as he waits for the searing agony to end at last, though it leaves a dull ache in its wake to remind him. He would rather have half of his face burned off again than try to remember anything.

@[adna]