And every shadow there filled up with doubt,
I don’t know who you think you are but before the night is through
𝕺cclumens 𝖂illiam 𝕯ante 𝕹ott the Third
𝕳eir of 𝕯uke of 𝖂ales, 𝕾lytherin 𝕬lumni
Loved, while I burned, he thought bitterly, the thoughtless stone abandoned into a sea of bitter life, with the tangent waves of sorrow and the undertow of hate, nestled beneath the foamy regret and teeming amidst the underwater life of so many dreams, broken and whole. She was so far from, so high into the heavens he’d have to crane his neck just to see, squint his eyes through the rolling rays beating down from the sun and only scarcely hidden in the neck of clouds hanging in the undercurrent.
He wade knee deep in these trenchant waters; fingers had clung to the slick and jagged bedrock, its rewards as steep as its incline. But the heavy waters stung his eyes with salt as they sloshed into him, a fever forever burning as the current beat against the cliff’s edge with the spray of foam miles down below her feet. For every inch higher he climbed, the nestled thorns and wiry vines hooked him in and reeled him back down. The clouds sank lower now, their shadowy edge a kiss away from his head, and with it, darkness. Beneath the fire of arrowheads from the demons at their bark, he was hidden under the pitch oblique for now.
Her words—the real her—not the one from his nightmares, not the woman in red that pulled his strings like the puppet of another idealistic God, the real Phinelia spoke, and her words shattered down the mountainside. It struck him down there, that part of him in his mind that was deep in the swamp below, it struck him even there. His lips had parted to gasp though no sway of oxygen had been stolen by greedy, dry lips. Stuttering, the broken record spun him right back down.
The tenebrous clouds parted, and she could see him for what he was again. Could see where the shards had carved time into the rocky face of the cliff, could see where the rocks parted for and scattered like drops of water in the lagoon below. The gnarled stumps and thickening trees grew, higher and higher over his head, time was of no essence down there in the deep. The curling stumps and their wandering roots spun together in weaving webs and the water rose higher and higher, lifting him up the side of the edge and drowning him, waves slamming him against the face with every trepid step.
From up there, the chaos was ever-present, and the demons that fought alongside him, even if he couldn’t see it, notched their bows and curled fingers around the taut string, aimed, and loose. The whirr of the wind raced past his ears, but he never saw it, not really, only the rocks spraying down on him from embedded arrows in chiseled edges, crumbling stone.
And her voice that echoed down, ”You are who you love.”
”And all I loved—I loved alone.” He smiled wryly, and he stood taller. The sun around them rolled, from dawn to dusk it shone, from behind her head to behind his own, and maybe, just maybe, he could convince her he had her in his shadows, for now, for forever. Gold eyes shined with threat in tune to her choked sob, a note so melodious he could almost smile, could almost cry, could almost feel.
In the face of her reckoning, he’d never felt so powerful. The man, no more the boy he’d been when Phinelia had known him, had tilted his head, jaw grit tightly his temples flexed. Veins popped at his neck, interlacing his collarbone. He sloshed what little spit he had in his mouth to lick his dry lips and usher a long, winding smile from ear to ear. ”When the rest of Heaven was blue,” he promised. He had more to say, so much more to say but no will to speak to it. Her racking body crumpled together, and a callous eye regarded her for a moment. ”You’ll understand, someday.”
When he turned, he hadn’t meant it to be so final, but, maybe he had. Slow, dutiful strides had led him back to Michelle, back to where he belonged. He nodded simply, as if to say it was over, as if to say they had won. He’d seen that fear, tasted it on his tongue, even now, even long after his voice had risen and he his fury had lashed. But it was benign now, an innocent flame, one to guide through the darkness as he approached her. A small press of his lips kissed the top of her silver, moonlit hair, and a heavy hand fell on her shoulder, guiding her out the door with him right beside her. He hadn’t meant to glance over his shoulder, either, but the thought of all of his life’s work, with Phinelia, being left behind, with Phinelia, and any secret he’d ever hoped to have hidden, with Phinelia—he couldn’t help but to look back.
Or maybe, it was just to see if she’d come running.
╔══════════════╗
Height: 6’2” ♜ Weight: 189 ♜ Age: 18
Moving to the grounds outside of Safehouse #2
with Michelle
╚══════════════╝
Height: 6’2” ♜ Weight: 189 ♜ Age: 18
Moving to the grounds outside of Safehouse #2
with Michelle
╚══════════════╝
I wanna do bad things with you.
Pale Mist
XxXDevil-Chan
