04-14-2023, 03:13 PM
jamie
I CAN’T EXACTLY DESCRIBE HOW I FEEL
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
BUT IT’S NOT QUITE RIGHT
Revenge.
Those strange yellow eyes flash and he sinks closer, an instinctive reaction.
Target practice.
And he understands, as the poison spreads across the earth, killing whatever it touches. It had been her, she had done it on purpose, she had felt him and responded in kind. (Had it been something defensive or merely a warning?)
He turns his focus to the ground underfoot, the way it rots. He knows nothing of poison or how to manipulate it, but he wills it out of the earth. And he feels it as it travels up from the soles of his feet, tunneling through the veins, hits the meat of his heart with an electric shock. (The eyes roll closed and he exhales a rasping, shuddering breath.)
“Remarkable,” he murmurs as he releases his hold on it, lets it seep back into the earth. He does not engage in a war of wills, does not try to draw it directly from its source, he has no interest in enemies. Instead, he moves closer still, as if to inspect the source instead.
As if to inspect her.
“And what made you someone who is wont to carry out someone else’s revenge?” he asks, tilting that strange head. He draws a curtain of fog around them then, lets it press in close so as to shield them from the prying eyes of all of those ghosts. (As if it’s at all possible to hide from ghosts.)
Those strange yellow eyes flash and he sinks closer, an instinctive reaction.
Target practice.
And he understands, as the poison spreads across the earth, killing whatever it touches. It had been her, she had done it on purpose, she had felt him and responded in kind. (Had it been something defensive or merely a warning?)
He turns his focus to the ground underfoot, the way it rots. He knows nothing of poison or how to manipulate it, but he wills it out of the earth. And he feels it as it travels up from the soles of his feet, tunneling through the veins, hits the meat of his heart with an electric shock. (The eyes roll closed and he exhales a rasping, shuddering breath.)
“Remarkable,” he murmurs as he releases his hold on it, lets it seep back into the earth. He does not engage in a war of wills, does not try to draw it directly from its source, he has no interest in enemies. Instead, he moves closer still, as if to inspect the source instead.
As if to inspect her.
“And what made you someone who is wont to carry out someone else’s revenge?” he asks, tilting that strange head. He draws a curtain of fog around them then, lets it press in close so as to shield them from the prying eyes of all of those ghosts. (As if it’s at all possible to hide from ghosts.)
AND IT LEAVES ME COLD
@
Iris