[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by betrayal on December 10, 2008, 1:20 pm, in reply to "i am jack's colon. i get cancer. i kill jack. -- betrayal"
Message modified by board administrator December 10, 2008, 2:18 pm
You may be the starlight, fair Ophelia, gleaming just out of reach - but he is the dagger, flawlessly and perfectly forged; a possession that only provokes you to think of the wild danger it symbolizes. For you see, as admirable and strong as the blade may be, its primary function is still to cut and to kill, as happy to bleed its wielder as anyone else. And yet it feels nothing, for the lives it takes and the pain it causes - neither guilt nor pleasure; it is unchanging, cold, and without loyalty. He is made of the same steel, he will cut with the same edge, and the unfair thing about it all is that despite the lives he'll ruin, he will still be desired.
And he has no eyes for the stars.
Let her see the similarities she will - a dagger reflects the face of its holder - and let her believe what she must, to understand. Evil, spite, power; these things were not his in the way she might expect (though the Shard certainly embodied them) - he chooses to be what he is because it makes him feel alive, not because he consciously believes that what he does is wrong or right. No, each crime he commits is justified by some explanation, however twisted, and he does not waste his efforts on meaningless encounters.
You are no exception, as unintentional as you believe your own presence to be.
No, but it is convenient. he replies with an equally dismissive tone; the plague's ailments seem distant now in her presence, and if his body shivers automatically, he does not notice.
You have something I need. he observes darkly, moving toward her like a shadow reaches for the horizon, his blue eyes bright and heatless. Her illness is fading and she glows again with a beauty that defies it, contrasting greatly with his tormented figure. But his tactics have little to do with his outward appearance - ironic that his physical flaws would soon heal so easily, hiding the rotten core. He passes her just barely, speaking to her ear without touching her, lingering inches away.
You have something I want. He whispers next, and his breath is cold as it trickles bloodlike down her neck, his head lowering until his lips come to pause at her shoulder. Beneath her skin he can feel her pulse, and the shard is a maddening siren in his skull, blinding him with its sickly light.
If she expected an explanation, he could not have offered it if he wanted - the shard waits no longer to make an incision along her shoulder, and the Keeper's tongue reaches for it automatically, as he greedily drinks his fill. As he does, the boils and cuts along his skin begin to recede, until nothing is left but black and white and the stains of his own blood. When it is finished he settles back with a satisfied smirk, his face handsome once again in the absence of the Elementals' blemishes.
All save for one, that is - the renewed, acid yellow light now resting comfortably again in his eyes.
Now that we know each other more… intimately, perhaps you could be useful. He muses, and his shard gleams golden, pressings its control onto her mind like a web. Surely Andarin has dark secrets a spy like yourself could easily unearth.
[WOW I did not expect to have that much muse XD I kind of assumed he should just go ahead and bite here, since I don't know... what else they'd talk about in between >.>]
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