Night 53: Solitary Room 1

[purpletaint]

{Rubedo might come back.}

That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Words said at the break of day, tinged with irony and dramatics. And what had happened that next day? What had accumulated from knowledge and belief

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[falseblack]

[From here.]

There was a dreadfully long second as familiarity registered. The sensation of being pulled away from one area and dumped in another had happened before. Many times before, if his memory of that one night wasn't a mistake. Only now, it involved nothing of doors, nothing of rejection, and--

All he heard was singing.

The sound was coarse, and the chills that resonated from the tips of his hair to the base of his feet said he knew the song and its singer. Knew the effects which failed to hold him had practically overwhelmed another, and Nigredo wondered if their meetings would always bring a sense of irony. This was irony at its very best, after all, and for what he now was, the child could appreciate the humor and laugh

[purpletaint]

It was possible that the thing that Albedo had become in the time shut away recognized the presence of another person. Nothing more than that, nothing less--a perpetrator in the crime of violation. Of stepping foot in a place deemed sacred, if only for the reason that it was where he resided, hand and foot and Song, was locked in and locked to, where his existence lay fleeting in the shadows yet caused.

Should he question another's presence in his home? Should he pause to reflect what could bring one here, as the darkness grew deeper? No, nothing of the sort. There was a tearing inside of him, and like an animal wounded, he rose to harm something that threatened by proximity. Should he not die in peace? Should he not exist as he had been, tortured by facts and siblings and unable to move? Wasn't it simply perfect? Wasn't it such a flawless impression of his own wretched existence

[falseblack]

Perhaps it can be attributed to experience. Perhaps his instincts had merely amplified from the unexpected, or intuition had grasped the basics that made his older brother. Regardless of source, Nigredo moved in time, in step, in without missing a heartbeat. One injured arm came upward to cut off access while the other grasped at a wrist, to remain in an ironclad grip

[purpletaint]

There existed resistance countered in motion, and Albedo snarled at the touch, lips pulling back over teeth as his face contorted from a painful mix to something closer to rage. To touch him. He despised it. To have anyone other than-- The arm that hadn't halted continued, grabbing the forearm brought as a defense roughly. There existed a follow-up, an action left unturned--

-He could kill this person, kill them without ever thinking of it again, and he knew it, knew it in the way he knew everything else. He was more than able to bring death on another, more than willing to cause pain to those who grabbed him. That man before, he, too had learned not to overstep his bounds, and now another, but wasn't it too faulty? Impression led only to strong arms and needles and this was nothing of the sort, and yet, it could break all the same, would break because he willed it, and he would, because there existed no reason he would stay his hand, no reason to not wage his own pain on another. No