A gulp slithered down the man's dried out throat. The snarling tone of the woman's words pierced him like a claw. The shadows that had come forth with her, had wrapped around him, the darkness binding and entwining him in its heavy curses. Though he would not let the darkness consume him, no, he would not. As a free spirited runner, he would rather die than promise his soul to the devil. And yet his sister was foolish enough to do so. Foolish enough to trade her free and delicate life into a life that holds no purpose. And why was he calling her his sister? That monster his sister? Anything but! And though she probably did not see him as the loving and protecting brother of her memories, through the changed eyes. Why? Why did they both despise each other wickedly? Why did she? The man knew why. He has known his sister for his whole life, ever since opening his intriguing eyes, welcomed brightly into the world. If anything, he knows Aislinn is shattered, broken, say it how ever you like. There is a hollow in her heart that can only be treated by an act of kindness, love or warmth. Because of this emptiness, the woman knows no kindness, love or warmth, only wickedness, coldness and dryness. He would do anything for his sister to wake up from the very nightmare she is herself, and to live and love like any other wolf. And what could he do? He could only try. If she could not open her eyes and realize the blood-hungry monster she is then he would rather slay her in kin blood than dare look to see her live on. Through his saddened and wispy eyes he would speak to her dryly, the warmth and happiness gone from his voice. He would beg, yes he would. In a pleading tone, he would whimper.
"I can heal your shattered heart. Please. Just return to me..." He let the crying wind carry his words into the stars above him, bowed in sorrow. His ancestors watched down on him, through their wisdom and age, he could only pray his words would reach her. Reach the crying heart inside of her.
"Speech"
|
