It is a shock to find flesh and blood beneath my tongue. Cool to the touch, and dust-tanged, but as real as anything I've ever tasted. My snarl flickers for a moment, doubt eating sluggishly at my mind. His voice rings in my ears as I stumble back, flecks of red on my lips and panic in my eyes.
This isn't right. This isn't right, I war against myself. I want him gone, destroyed, ended, because that might end my own internal riots. I have to touch something to destroy it, this I know so well, but the reality of it is far away from mine.
Do it! See if his blood is real enough to sooth your broken mind. Enough to chase us away.
They echo him, begging for release that one only finds in the darkest of places. His eyes gleam in the shadow, as blue and fractured as my own. "No," the word leaves me like a ghost, pleading into the night. "NO!" Again, and I swing my head wildly. It collides with the rough barked trunk of an oak. The pain, like hunger, is a clarifier. Again I throw my face against the biting tree until blood runs into my eyes and the ache in my head outweighs the Voices.
"I won't do it again," my wheezing voice whimpers. I'm a wreck of a creature. Bloody, cracked and hanging by the last threads of my mind. My world has dissolved into violence and anxiety, mistrust and fear. Memory of who and what I once was is harder and harder to recall. Through my blood tinged vision though, I can see in this stranger's eyes the same hunted, haunted things. The fragile, spidery thread that weaves us ever tighter to our ends.
@[Balto] probably time for a mature tag..
This isn't right. This isn't right, I war against myself. I want him gone, destroyed, ended, because that might end my own internal riots. I have to touch something to destroy it, this I know so well, but the reality of it is far away from mine.
Do it! See if his blood is real enough to sooth your broken mind. Enough to chase us away.
They echo him, begging for release that one only finds in the darkest of places. His eyes gleam in the shadow, as blue and fractured as my own. "No," the word leaves me like a ghost, pleading into the night. "NO!" Again, and I swing my head wildly. It collides with the rough barked trunk of an oak. The pain, like hunger, is a clarifier. Again I throw my face against the biting tree until blood runs into my eyes and the ache in my head outweighs the Voices.
"I won't do it again," my wheezing voice whimpers. I'm a wreck of a creature. Bloody, cracked and hanging by the last threads of my mind. My world has dissolved into violence and anxiety, mistrust and fear. Memory of who and what I once was is harder and harder to recall. Through my blood tinged vision though, I can see in this stranger's eyes the same hunted, haunted things. The fragile, spidery thread that weaves us ever tighter to our ends.
@[Balto] probably time for a mature tag..