BROKEN ANGELS

Medusa the vision would croon as it closed the distance between himself and the woman. That voice deafening Deteste to any words truly spoken by her. There's my pretty girl. Now where's your prey? Those golden eyes would become wickedly transfixed upon the man, as would Medusa's questioning gaze. The persecution would be real enough to the man that his hair upon his nape would begin to stand, his facade cracking with the initial wrinkles of an ugly snarl. Then in the very moment that such intensity had possessed him the vision would be gone. Yet the woman was real and her questioning gaze remained. The man would stand suddenly and stumble leftward as his breath left him in the realization of his memory.



Do you remember me? his voice would pierce the air like a whip, his sharp gaze focused on the face that was now too much familiar and now somewhat unwanted. He had traveled and struggled for long years to leave behind his past and yet here was one of Xerxes' roots tapping away at him without his knowing. The man was furious and confused by his muddled revelation. He was unsure what his next action would be. In the past he had killed any followers of Xerxes he had come across. But it mattered not in this moment for emotion possessed the man beyond the control of contemplation. Knowing that the woman would either be confused by his conviction or feign confusion the same question would boom once again through his jowls, DO YOU KNOW ME?! the winter air shook with the amplitude of his voice. Sharp and stained incisors would be bared to the temptress at the close of his inquisition and he would approach in preparation of a chase should the woman attempt to flee.