[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by Severus on November 9, 2008, 2:59 am, in reply to "thread..." “What we need is hatred. Alone, Severus never would have approached the Jaeger. He had no desire to exchange pleasantries with perfect strangers (and now, no need), but something else had drawn them together in the murk of heavy fog. In the presence of Simon’s earth, the Wraith’s blood raced with uncharacteristic excitement. “The sparrows daren’t sing around me,” the white stallion responded matter-of-factly. He wondered how many he had blown off their perch, or how many nests lie broken amid the frost-covered foliage, because of his loathing for birdsong. Of course it didn’t really matter; Simon wouldn’t know this about him, and he probably would have been no worse off continuing to think that a bird’s silence depends only on the amount of light in the sky. But naturally with an ice-breaker that lacks conviction or usefulness comes a response that makes up for it in nastiness. And still the shard longed for a taste of the young stallion’s blood. Physically, it manifested itself in Severus’ heightened intensity. He seemed poised like a panther to leap upon Simon at any moment, but at the same time appeared to be carved from perfect white marble in his stillness. “Severus.” His name was a bland offering under the present circumstances. It took a surprising degree of self-control, but the pale beast held his ground (and if he regarded Simon at times like a dog might look at a juicy steak, one might write it off as a tragic symptom of an antisocial lifestyle – or perhaps the Wraith was developing rather exotic tastes after a lifetime of denying himself sex). I would be quick to point out that it’s most assuredly not the second. Severus is positively sure that such frivolity is both detestable and beneath him. The Wraith reached out with a tiny thread of his thoughts, harnessing Transference to lull Simon’s mind into the most comfortable state of security he could manage undetected. The wind cradled him with unnoticeable warmth, like a mother nuzzling her foal, as Severus slowly approached. “What brings you to Desreál this morning, Simon?” His voice, as always, was perfectly innocent and soft despite his ugliness.
71.170.123.38
From it, our ideas are born.”
- the wraith.
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