06-28-2020, 06:25 AM
If anyone asked - not that anyone would care to - he would say he does not remember his childhood. Not the first, not the second. He would shove it all down and shrug his gray shoulders. No, he does not recall Bible recoiling from him and telling him he was an ugly little larva. No, he has no memory of Cobain kicking him into the underbrush of a forest and telling him not to be seen. He especially doesn’t remember the way all of this made him feel hollow and unreal, or the nights he cried cold and alone until exhaustion took him to sleep.
But he will openly confess his own crimes. He keeps every sin hung up like a trophy. Larva knows that every time he finds a glimpse of happiness, he presses the knife to its throat and slaughters it like a sacrificial lamb. No one can love him, not fully. They cannot see the depth of his depravity and not step back from the edge of him.
This is why he continues to leave Echis and Ryatah. Their daughter is a pure and perfect thing and he will not permit her to be dirtied by his presence the way Darling was. Still, the remorse of having her weighs heavy in his chest when he slips away the moment she closes her eyes and her breaths grow even. Why couldn’t she have been another awful son who inherited all his vile thoughts and feelings? He wants to blame Ryatah for making her beautiful, for passing on that goodness to her. But he also wants to thank her and he will never speak those words aloud.
When he lowers his head to drink from the river, he remembers how much he hates the way his face looks - scarred and pale and hideous. The sparse hair across his temple and the pristine porcelain shade of the skin there remind him of his first death. He snorts, disrupting the water enough to ruin his reflection so he can lift his head with water dribbling still from his chin. His ears lay flat against his head as he slips so easily into his typical brooding. Larva barely moves when he hears someone approaching except to watch from the corner of his eye.
@[Anonya]
But he will openly confess his own crimes. He keeps every sin hung up like a trophy. Larva knows that every time he finds a glimpse of happiness, he presses the knife to its throat and slaughters it like a sacrificial lamb. No one can love him, not fully. They cannot see the depth of his depravity and not step back from the edge of him.
This is why he continues to leave Echis and Ryatah. Their daughter is a pure and perfect thing and he will not permit her to be dirtied by his presence the way Darling was. Still, the remorse of having her weighs heavy in his chest when he slips away the moment she closes her eyes and her breaths grow even. Why couldn’t she have been another awful son who inherited all his vile thoughts and feelings? He wants to blame Ryatah for making her beautiful, for passing on that goodness to her. But he also wants to thank her and he will never speak those words aloud.
When he lowers his head to drink from the river, he remembers how much he hates the way his face looks - scarred and pale and hideous. The sparse hair across his temple and the pristine porcelain shade of the skin there remind him of his first death. He snorts, disrupting the water enough to ruin his reflection so he can lift his head with water dribbling still from his chin. His ears lay flat against his head as he slips so easily into his typical brooding. Larva barely moves when he hears someone approaching except to watch from the corner of his eye.
@[Anonya]