𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒, 𝐑𝐔𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒. violets died when he put on the mask, but the scent still remains. it is as dark as the black of his pupils with a noise as harsh as the smoke that desver breathes. with a click, it retracts, revealing the face of a husband, a scientist, an atlesian elite. sharp cheekbones, angular features. his hair curls, his eyelashes flutter as he looks down. somewhere, a pale swan stares blankly at a bloodied maw of an apex predator. does its leash extend, here?
there’s hatred in all of us, the wolf says. but what of love? an empathy so profound that it extends beyond any means of understanding. a love so deep that it asks you to remember who you are. love has many languages, and they are all in black and white. ❛ do you think that is why i am here? because i hate what he’s become? ❜ he opens his eyes : lilacs. all his flowers are in slow decay, the natural entropy of all things. he reeks of the act of dying. something within him, curling in on itself. a story in mourning.
❛ i love him still. i will always love him. if we are to come to any agreement. if there is to be any understanding, you must know that, above all else. but know, desver, that this will not prevent me from doing what must be done. this will not stop me from destroying what he’s built. ❜ he looks at him with such a pristine gaze, with a stare as all-consuming as the darkness that now surrounds him — like a cocoon. and in a cocoon, he metamorphoses. ❛ i am willing to become your rook in all of this. i can give you access to my technology and programming. i do not detest you, and i do not detest this situation. it is necessary. ❜
the wolf laughs; smoke-light, tar-black. it is short, too, as it had been before; an empathization, punctuation. with its flourish he rises to his feet, foxlike grace beaten into worn out flesh ( sometimes, he recalls times of loose teeth and bones not yet made for war, unknowing to the weight of a blade, a bullet’s kiss; of a child, fragile, holding a thief’s dagger sharp as winter’s chill, not morbid enough to kill but desperate enough to try ) and moves in a slow manner, dramatic... with a purpose. i love him still, he echoes in his thoughts; i love him still, all battered and half-mad, frenzied with desperation. i love him still, broken down and terrified, an animal cornered and snarling. i love him still, odet says, and something in desver’s heart melts, deep down, a frigid layer of schooled disregard---his face, all too often shrouded, twists in what resembles pity. it reshapes itself into something strange and indescribable.
a part of him fears for what he may become, once his indifference turns into emotion. one can only lie for so long, after all.
“ very well, ” he speaks at last, now turned to odet, the stinging yellow reflected on his mask lethargic and detached. would his voice betray him, now? “ i need you to remember, however, that every soul you’re now entrusted belongs to a body built from blood and bone---skilled as they are, none of them are infallible. your soldier husks can only do so much, and will not save everyone... as they didn’t in vale. ” in an instant, desver’s mind feels the teeth of trauma bear into its soft flesh---pale smoke, corpses burning among the trees. pale smoke, children of the earth given back, once and for all. pale ashes bestrewn across the soil. not everything can be saved. not everything should be; not everything must be.
“ and, ” short as heartbeat---the glow drawing closer. “ that may include your husband, too. i hereby swear to do everything i could possibly do to save him, as i expect you to swear not to run away. but you’re a smart man, odet---smarter than james. smarter than me. death licks its teeth at the idea of taking such a prey. there might be a time where we grow powerless, and you must be aware. every action, every word... has its consequences. ” desver sucks in a breath---audibly enough to be heard, treachery to the comforting protection of his mask’s filter. “ if it comes down to it, don’t hesitate to throw me into the lion’s mouth. ”
