and just like that she plunges his head into cold water, and he is silent in his cynicism, caution smeared around the rims of his edges in broad, colourful strokes. in spite of all he’d done, the thought of leaving had never once come to roost in his cranium and now that he thinks about it, the idea itself seems almost ludicrous when spoken aloud. ‘ you don’t understand. ‘ it comes as quiet as a heretic’s confession, words stuck between the shrines of his teeth, unwanting to be spilled down his chin and chest like blood from ruptured veins. ‘ turks don’t leave. we die. ‘ most are picked off one by one on missions, but shinra is a rewarding beast and there is no shortage of kids willing to become martyrs for a worthy cause. ‘ ‘n if someone tries t’ run — ‘
‘ well, lets jus’ say there are worse things than death. ‘ he wears reluctance around his neck like a noose, and allows its cold, raw - boned fingers to peel back his lips in resigned commitment ( a smile as biting as december’s winds; too sharp and too sterile by nature, toeing around his eyes with cold detachment of a stranger, whilst his heart remains a graveyard of uprooted lilies ) —
‘ ‘n while i do enjoy ya company, i kinda also like the idea of, ya know, not layin’ in some basement wearin’ my guts for garters. ‘
Sympathy does not belong to her mother tongue, for it is a concept that remains foreign and unintelligible even when she arduously rolls its every syllable ‘pon her serpentine tongue. Her fingers were not made to dispense gentle caresses and to hold hands, nor were her lips crafted to leave trails of soft kisses ‘pon starved flesh ─ Her claws were hewn with diamonds to tear flesh apart and break bones whilst her razor-sharp fangs were designed with the sole purpose of biting, chewing, desecrating what could no longer breathe. Ahreum was naught but a direful MONSTROSITY created by someone who was inspired by the worst intentions: she embodied everything that was unholy, from lustful desires to abhorrent carnages, for her duty was that of corrupting the soul and devouring the body in the name of ideals that held no importance or significance to her.
And yet, when he spoke, she felt something. It was almost like the sting of a fatigued bee, a piercing sensation that did not last more than a few seconds and that didn’t leave behind any blemishing scar ─ It was, however, strong enough to force her to let go of the rough fabric of his jacket. ❝ If you’re really that scared, then maybe you should really spend the rest of your life in the basement, surrounded by other cowardly rats. ❞
A pause thus ensued. Tip of dainty fingers burnt with the desire of despoiling his face, if only to forcefully remove his grotesque semblance and unclothe his real self. ❝ Is that where your loyalty lies ? In the fear of what would happened to you, if you stopped barking for them ? ❞
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