With Pace and a Fury Defiant

The truth was, he hadn’t entirely been sure about how much it bothered him either. But maybe he simply wasn’t doing a very good job at articulating what it was that bothered him. It wasn’t the killing. He wasn’t pretending to be a saint. He wasn’t Andromeda, who he believed to be one of the few truly good-natured. There was no way he could be that. Killing those who deserved it, wasn’t the issue. Killing to survive, was necessary. Killing those who wronged them, shouldn’t have been a concern. Oh, but didn’t the boy wrong them? That was different. Was it? Even if his own moral compass couldn’t find true north, it still boiled down to him feeling as if he wasn’t in control of himself.  

Whatever topic it was that they were moving to was one that she was obviously passionate about. Or perhaps it was just him that made her that way. But as she led him down the rabbit hole of her acceptance vs his, putting words in his mouth, he couldn’t help but interject. “I’ve never thought you couldn’t handle shit.” Quite the opposite really. He wouldn’t have brought her aboard Sephiran’s rag-tag group if he had. She continued detailing her point of view on the subject. Reiterating that she simply didn’t care. That she had done unforgivable things as well. He was not great at communication, but it felt like it was a matter of her attempting to point out her own flaws to make him feel better about his own. But also, at times it felt like he was being bound by her words. Being taken verbally hostage in a scenario of … if you can’t forgive yourself, then you can’t forgive me. But also. If you can forgive me, then you can forgive yourself. “It doesn’t matter to me what you have or haven’t done, or why you did the things you did- I’m not a judge, nor am I a jury, and I don’t want to be an executioner unless I have to be … I know all that I need to know about you to tell you that I like you too. If our roles had been reversed, I would have trusted that you had a reason …. A good one or a bad one means little to me … The problem is, I couldn’t tell you what mine was. I snapped somewhere after the campsite with no recollection of at what point I decided he needed to die- nor do I remember killing him. …That’s what bothers me.” He tried explaining. The words didn’t come as easily to him as he tried to express them. Pushing past her was sounding better and better- but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

As she broke their eye contact- her attention sliding to his chest. He looked away as well. “Well. It seems like you’ve got everything figured out. Me. Yourself. The world. And everyone else in it. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You’re too smart for me, Absinth.“ He trailed off- he could practically hear the exhaustion in his own voice. “I can’t accept myself, because I don’t understand myself.” He mumbled, chancing the glance back in her direction. “But maybe you understand enough for both of us.” He met her touch with the side of his face. But rather than stopping there, he slid his cheek past the side of her face, and to momentarily press it into the side of her neck. “For now … I will be selfish.” His voice lowly and intimate. Aresenn maintained the contact for several more moments before pulling back enough to look her in the eyes. “But if I ever hurt you- not like this.” He gestured with a paw to the punctures he had left in her skin from the night before. “But more …” Serious. Furiously. Aggressive. He wouldn’t allow himself to be selfish any longer. Not when it came to her.

"Aresenn Praetor"