This burning Desire Is turning me to sin
01-05-2018, 01:27 AM
So much feels.
Dance with the Devil || His temper was like TNT, once the sparks started to sizzle there was very little time to duck and cover. She knew she should just stay quiet and wait for the storm to abate, but she couldn't help sparring with him. His face mottled crimson, his eyes popped, his tree trunk neck strained. His words were spat out with the ferocity and rapidity of machine gun fire. Without wiping the spit from her visage she leant closer, perfectly composed and uttered just four words, "Et non comedit eam." (We ate her too) His fuse simmered and fizzed like a firework in a chill autumn breeze, then he exploded with unrestrained fury. She remained as still as a cadaver and just as pallid, unblinking against his onslaught. "Non aliter affectus omnes ex nobis." (It affected all of us differently) Acutely beautiful visage, a artist canvas, painted in compassion, pomegranate optics burned, a living flame, with passion and pity. Hot tears, melting the ice that was her heart; pain, suffering, her soul only a shell, physical agony. Her brother, her beloved, in front of her stood no man but a child, memories of a forgotten time are revealed like a film in front of her eyes, he was hurt and scared and alone. No one deserved that. They all were cursed with this damned blood that flow through their veins. Ithuriel. Monsters. Some people are born good and always fight off the bad. Some people are born bad and become good through great effort. Others are born in light and fall to darkness. And others are born in darkness and cannot see the light. Try as you might to believe otherwise, everyone fits into one of those categories. She knew what she was. When she came of age she realised the life ahead of her was one of anger, pain and hatred. Of darkness. Did she want that? Yes. She did. She grew up surrounded by fire and ash and poison and death. It was the only thing she knew, of course she wanted it. She was never taught what love was. What kindness was. In fact, in her entire childhood she saw just one type of smile - a smile full of malice and cruel intent. It was all she knew. But somewhere deep within her being, the memories of her first months of life still stands, the memories when they were all together. Happy. Content. "I never wanted you alone nor scared." Brick by brick, her walls came tumbling down. When he cried there was a rawness to it, like the pain was still an open wound. The sobs were stifled at first as he perhaps attempted to hide his grief, then like being overcome by to many emotions he broke down entirely in front of her, all his defences washed away in those salty tears. When he at last turned his face to Nephthys she saw a picture of grief, loss, devastation. It was the face of one who had suffered before and didn't know if he could do it again. It broke her. As much as she tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream. A single tear slid down from his warm, luminous eyes, followed by another one, and another one, until soon, a steady stream of salty beads of water flowed it's way down her high cheek, releasing the sadness and sorrow that has been held inside of her for all this time but still she did not make a sound. "What they did..." mumbles, guttural voice, trembling over the marble beads that rolled down and mixed within her luxurious hair threads. They kept her captive. Held as nothing more than a slave. Nephthys's optics sealed shut. She can remember it so well. Their coarse tongue that licked at her skin, stubby claws curled in her hair. Every time she would close her eyes they bashed her head backward onto the concrete demanding she open them. She didn't want to, she closed them over and over, anything rather than watch their face lit up with with power and lust. They became angry, their force less controlled, until finally blood ran from the back of her head onto the rain soaked ground and her head lolled like a doll. The men were finished anyway. Most left without a backward glance and others continued but they were all the same. She knows that there is so much more to survival than the persistence of the flesh but she will never forget. But there was no reason for her brother to know either. She will carry it with her. Luminous, pomegranate optics re-opened with a stilled stare fixated with captivating intensity, upon her brother; how time had left him untouched, handsomeness only malleable through his own ambitious means, unforgiving beauty. She would observe, in the oozing selfishness of silence, for but moments more. Exaltation transcended any desire to flee or become faceless once more; no, they will not part again. She had no reasoning to hide her truest self from him, newly crowned king of the small heart she possessed. She reflected with faint, familiar affection how much he deserved such ascension. "We are not to part, my beloved brother." Lyrics would emerge, love cascading upon her senses. "At best we are but clay, animated dust; but viewed as sinners, we are monsters indeed, all of this damned kin. Let it be published in Aaru* as a miracle that we reunited. " (*Ancient Egyptian's Heaven) she approched once more, the side of her high cheek met the soft tendril of his neck, rubbing, scenting; touching, burning, heat spread between the two of them, sharing the conductor, warmth and familiarity, she rested there for a moment; plush, coral tongue rolled from parted ink lips, tasting the locks upon his nape.
"!" |
