I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
He has grown so used to the gnawing emptiness in his own chest that it has merely become another wretched part of him. The only things that fill it are rage and lust, but even he cannot sustain such violent appetites day and night. Maybe that’s why he finds such temptation in slumber. Why he spends hours basking in the warmth of the sun or in the peaceful shade of the forest. It is something that requires nothing from him. Not even thought.
Anyone who knows him would be entirely unsurprised to find him sprawled on a damp bed of moss beneath an ancient oak in the forest. Of course, few know him well enough to know that, least of all the mare that finds him now.
He is deep in sleep when she nearly trips across his legs. Deep enough he doesn’t notice her at first. It’s rare for him to slip into true slumber. Most of his time is spent in that half-waking stage where the mind is numb but the body is aware. Old habits die hard. Apparently even very very old habits. But in the dead of night, when only the haunted are restless, Ashhal sleeps.
It’s strange that he could find respite in this hour when his own demons have haunted him for eternity. Of course, after an eternity, even demons grow bored of the same old bullshit. There would be plenty of time to hate himself when he finally wakes up again.
The light finds him first. It creeps past his closed lids and tickles confusion across his consciousness. He had fallen asleep in the forest. How is the dawn light finding him here?
Then her softly spoken words reach his ears. Are you real? With a grunt, his eyes pop open only to squint against the brightness far too close to him. Brightness that halos an equine face hovering uncomfortably near his prone body.
“What the fuck?” he snarls, wings lashing at her before he scrambles upright. He doesn’t fight his instinct to close in on her. In fight or flight, the needle almost always swings to fight, and tonight is no different. Wings flaring aggressively, he crowds her, pressing uncomfortably close as he teeth hover threateningly over her neck, dark eyes ferocious.
“What the hell makes you think I’m an angel?” he grinds out, breath fanning her skin, expression black. He doesn’t question where the thought had come from. How it had found its way into his sleeping subconscious. His ribs heave with the anger that had come roaring to life the moment he’d awakened to find her peering so intently at him. “Because let me fucking assure you, I am not.”
@aureline