[ Post a Response | Desreal ]
Posted by severus on January 13, 2009, 5:31 pm, in reply to "to my wraith, deliciously sparkly; --" “What we need is hatred. Severus hadn’t expected to see her again. In fact, he had hoped to never see her again. But, as it had all his life, reality saw fit to capitalize on his wishes and use them for his destruction (obviously, because she was there in his forest, doing exactly what he didn’t want her to do). Ignore her, the shard said. It burned in his throat like a disease, but this time he didn’t obey. What Fenrisulfr brought with her threw him into a deep-seated panic – the kind that draws you in toward instead of repelling you, the kind that is both fear and rage, the kind for which there is no real, adequate description. His heart pounded in his ears and his winds recoiled from the Wolf Queen’s incessant voiceless summons. Ignore her, the shard said again, pleading to no effect. Unlike the poisonous thing in his throat, Severus did not see or comprehend the mare’s jewelry, only the company she kept. He saw white skin and he saw gray eyes and in them both he saw his own ruin, irrefutable, inexplicable (and, most importantly, completely out of his control). They shouldn’t be here. They had to leave. It was all he could think about, all he could bear to think about. He came upon them trembling with feverish intensity and fixed his gaze upon the Wolf Queen, eyes burning with – what? – accusation. “Get out – get them out of here.” Severus’ voice, eternally composed, shook. The pale beast felt strangely weak, as though the mere act of approaching her had exhausted him. The thought only intensified his panic; the blood slowly drained from his face, leeching it of what little color it had. They had to leave. He didn’t know why he was so afraid. He lunged forward, roughly shoving the twin fillies away from him with bared teeth. The shard was saying nothing now. Perhaps it was laughing at him. He rounded on the gray mare once more. “What were you thinking? They can’t be here!” Severus paused, sides heaving with adrenaline and mounting exhaustion. He could barely think over the sound of his own heart thundering in his skull. “What are they?”
129.110.241.19
From it, our ideas are born.”
- the wraith.
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