09-11-2016, 08:02 PM
and lord, I fashion dark gods too;
“My word has never meant much,” he says, voice idle, for indeed he has long lived in a palace of broken promises, he has no qualms in crushing them beneath his hooves, turning them to dust. He is not a noble man, nor has he ever pretended to be. But she has been obedient enough, listening, severing those loyal, stupid ties.
“But you may have it: I will not cause him harm.”
And he means this, for now, for the boy has not meant much, he is already forgetting his face. He has no need for the boy, except as collateral for her, and now the boy has served his purpose. Oh, someday their paths may cross again, and the promise may be revoked for whatever reason, but for now, he is honest -- as honest as he ever is, at least.
But this small kindness is dropped quick enough as her words turn to vinegar, as she says the words that have long lain in the corridors of his subconscious: she didn’t come back for you.
He’d sent a dozen acolytes after her, brought her back from the brink of the apocalypse (and never mind he’s the one who put her there in the first place, never mind he didn’t go himself), and she can’t even be bothered to find him when she is made flesh again, through whatever queer power this woman possessed.
He doesn’t dwell on it long. Hurting her is easier. Hurting her is something he is good at.
She won’t need an answer if she’s too busy screaming.
(Never mind that he doesn’t have an answer. Never mind.)
c a r n a g e
(look I am Drunk so idk what this is, but you can powerplay his torturing her, or just add it to your headcanon, or write some more <33)