Shelter For My Soul

Exasperation, upset, frustration where only the tip of the iceberg to the emotions that filled and overflowed the dark eyes of this brute. Despite the words he had just spoken, despite his very anger that served only to further prove his conviction, her words would still contradict him. He was past angry now, he was furious. His rage had in the past been a thing he almost feared, for he was not himself when it came to play. He was not himself now, as he looked to her self-pitying orbs and could do and say nothing. If what he ahd already said meant nothing to him, what could he possibly say next that would get through? Nothing. He finally reached the point where he knew his words would do nothing to change what was happening here, nothing to break the anger, the hurt, the self pity.



The very end of it all, after turning his words against him and calling herself worthless she would ask him if he would have her. Still he could not speak, still he fought the waking beast inside of him, fought and lost. He was too far gone in anger, all her words, all her self-pity crying out to him that she was worthless when he well knew she was not...



The beauty was gone, her elegance and the manner in which she had seduced him was nothing to what she had become now. Through his anger he could see it clearly, he was in a state of full awareness, even as he was so far from being himself. He could feel and see what he had done, and in his anger he could not fix it in the manner the gentler Cru might. Still he did not speak, he held the awareness and waited, waited for her to finish all that she had to say, waited until her words where to the world. He held his silence, held his eyes in darkness and held onto his awareness like the lifeline it was.



He listened, as her emotions rose and fell like disjointed music, as she went from her self-pity, to pledging, to softness once more. When at last she had said his peace, his maw would open. Despite the waiting, despite the long moments of holding onto it, the anger had not dimmed. When his eyes finally fell upon her, they were livid and living, they rolled with dark tones and spices of silver beneath their purple hues.
?You hate yourself. You love me. You want to me by partner and believe yourself worthless. Are you sure you are ready to be on equal terms with me? For our lives to be one? Are you sure you have found enough of yourself to share it, Othello??
His voice was hoarse, not from shouting, but from the anger that burned his throat and lips.
?Because I do not believe you are. If I am not enough to convince of your worth then you must find it another way. You cannot be mine until you are yours. Find yourself. Find your worth. And if you are able, come back to me?
His throat clenched beneath him, he fell silent again, and closed his eyes. He fought the urge to punctuate his words by turning and walking away. It took every ounce of his will power to force himself to stay, to remain, and slip his eyes closed and see what she could decide from here.



He could not handle the self-pity, he could not handle that she could not believe it when it came from his own lips. And if she could not, did not, believe him that truly she must find it by herself.