[Like so many others, he relives the day the woman he loved died every day, every moment, every inhale of every cigarette, every fist connected to flesh, every footstep, every heartbeat. The irony is ridiculous, to the point of deserved. He had protected her from everything, the only purpose he'd ever known, and then she had succumbed to herself.
Like so many others since love began, he died with her that day. He's just waiting in silence for his body to follow along after. Real, not real, he sees her everywhere, bloodied and gone forever. He observes her broken body in silence as the traffic moves around him.
Every moment, every inhale of every cigarette. Every footstep. Every heartbeat.]
[ There's nothing he can do, because it has already happened, it has already passed, and he doesn't know, can't know, but Sven leans his hand against the back of her head, like a simple touch, yet it's not so timid as much as it's encouraging. There to protect, to shield. ]
[The woman with an almost constantly tough exterior is broken down, crying uncontrollably. It's been over a decade since it happened; she has another son and an entirely new life. But it suddenly feels so recent, like it just happened, and she's just as incredulous and in shock as she was then - she feels weak, lost, her throat and gut hurt--the words she's capable of pronouncing are hoarse, reduced to a pained whisper. She almost seems delirious.]
[ He doesn't speak, doesn't want to - doesn't need to. There's nothing he could say, nothing at all. His wives, all his sons, throughout the time, they all died and he did not. He has long given up on romance, on family, took the hitman path instead, offered by different pain, but a pain nonetheless. He watches her, a frown upon his face. ]
[ He has died many times. One could argue that is his purpose. Because what is loyalty without sacrifice, what good is an oath if it is not seen all the way through? To die in service is a gift, he thinks, but there are many different ways to fall.
His last master ran him through with his sword, mistaking him for the beast that had slain his babe. But no, the babe had not been killed, the blood on the floor had not been the child's. The boy had been hidden, cocooned away in his blankets -- tear-stained but breathing -- beneath the bed.
Yes, he has died many times. But to die at a master's hand bears more pain than all of the other deaths combined. ]
[ He is not a helpless pup, but the Faithful Hound's oath means his bite is meant only for the enemies of his master. Whimpering, he bears his teeth, a pathetic look in his eyes. Of course it hurts, it always hurts to think about. Despite this, though, he does not relent.
His eyes are raw and the corners of his mouth are wet. ] It's not yours. It's-- it's mine.
[ She doesn't pull back, doesn't let go of his head against her chest, fingers still strangling around his short hair. Her mouth offers a beautiful smile, her teeth white - want to be red, but are white. One of her hands press against his cheek, strokes her thumb across his cheek. ]
But why suffer, why? [ Her eyes have a certain shine to them, hypnotizing, maybe. ] Why not relinquish it, perrito?
[ He relives the day his parents were killed on national television, the day that everything went wrong, where a demon wearing his face, speaking his words, using his colour of magic strode in to one of the most secure places of power the Covenants could offer without even batting an eyelash.
His screams are loud, drawn out things that leave his body heaving, magic flaring up about him in a storm of sapphire blue energy. ]
{Dante can recall no physical pain, no true discomfort outside of a hangover or paper cut. Living in the lap of luxury for so long made him spoiled in that aspect; as a child, every bump and bruise was treated like surgery was needed and the house doctor was called no matter the hour. His body bore no scars, his bones remained unbroken.
But when awoke that day and moved sleepily into the hallway to see his mother and father and... her. He knew what had happened. And he thought of the beautiful boy the was still sleeping in his covers, and how saying 'yes' to this woman would change everything.
His heart broke, and his stomach turned, and he just packed his bags and ran.}
...you can't escape me, I'm sorry.sociomonereFebruary 9 2010, 00:39:57 UTC
[Already one witch's plaything, he does not succumb to another. He doesn't know what's going on in Dante's head, but his big comforting smile is gone and Tallendi nudges him. When he gets no response, he claps the man on the shoulder nervously.]
someday I will stop hoarding you to myself.sociomonereFebruary 9 2010, 02:34:53 UTC
[The brat makes an incredulously face at him, mouth and brows scrunched up. It worried him. That witch's magic makes him itch, even if Baby's stopped up his eyes and ears and nose and throat too good for some other bitch to find her way in.]
Comments 315
Like so many others since love began, he died with her that day. He's just waiting in silence for his body to follow along after. Real, not real, he sees her everywhere, bloodied and gone forever. He observes her broken body in silence as the traffic moves around him.
Every moment, every inhale of every cigarette. Every footstep. Every heartbeat.]
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Não, não... [a gulp] Porquê, meu Deus, porquê?
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His last master ran him through with his sword, mistaking him for the beast that had slain his babe. But no, the babe had not been killed, the blood on the floor had not been the child's. The boy had been hidden, cocooned away in his blankets -- tear-stained but breathing -- beneath the bed.
Yes, he has died many times. But to die at a master's hand bears more pain than all of the other deaths combined. ]
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[ She wraps her slender, long arm around his head from behind, lets her bony fingers travel through his hair, tugs on it. ]
Do you want it to stop? [ She smiles, wicked. ] Give it to me.
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His eyes are raw and the corners of his mouth are wet. ] It's not yours. It's-- it's mine.
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But why suffer, why? [ Her eyes have a certain shine to them, hypnotizing, maybe. ] Why not relinquish it, perrito?
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His screams are loud, drawn out things that leave his body heaving, magic flaring up about him in a storm of sapphire blue energy. ]
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But when awoke that day and moved sleepily into the hallway to see his mother and father and... her. He knew what had happened. And he thought of the beautiful boy the was still sleeping in his covers, and how saying 'yes' to this woman would change everything.
His heart broke, and his stomach turned, and he just packed his bags and ran.}
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Hey.
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Ah, lo siento. I was... Distracted.
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I noticed.
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