☤ whimsical providence
trinxtop:
“–do they bother you, dear Zenko?” Seunghyun asked, soothed by the obedience of tormented souls, their silence because of his demand pleased him greatly, though, he believes it’s because he has a place he could send them to, and this beautiful woman’s head would probably be more preferable then where he’d drag them, “….the voices?”
In the silent eternity between cozen words; vicious bites at her pale, bloodless lips as she duels with the devil, so beguiled was Rose that Dean’s exit does not establish itself as an accomplishment. Instead, there is the threat of inevitable failure gnawing at her at her temples, burning at the flesh where a bead of cold sweat continued to caress. And perhaps he could see, and that’s why he smiles, gleeful eyes sagaciously carnivorous.
A quiet infinity punctuates their new-found solitude, but neither of them shifts, and a perpetuity of terror snakes its steady tendril around her leg, rooting Rose to the grave of her own making. The atmosphere thickens with her quiet trembles, until her airway clogs with the bitter taste of her own desperation.
And yet, his pupils does not shift from her own trembling ones. Instead, they continued to latch onto her mind with shrewd claws; threatening to unveil her at the slightest slip. For a moment, he plays along, like a predator languidly licking its sinful lips at the ignorance of their prey – until he opens mouth intentfully, slyly, and the deliberate words that exited were irreparable blows to her already frail equanimity.
Be Zenko; embody him - your quest for silence depends on it, Rose whispers to herself repetitively, until it is buried by the shrieks of her sword. “And yet for all your posturing, you do not heed your own advice – you dare to accuse me.” She is cornered prey now, surrounded by gleaming teeth on all sides with nowhere else to go.
(As she breathes in the wafts of desperation that is coming from her very being, Rose realizes she has everything to lose. And yet - still she gambles for Zenko, for a mere silver of the blissed silence only he could bestow upon her.)
“Do not forget that just as I need you,” Rose smiles, and all that’s left of her is hollow confidence – “that you also need me.”
“You are not at a position to tread so carelessly upon thin ice, dear TOP. Perhaps I should indeed…remind you.” But as his eyes burn brands into her person, Rose could not help but to pray –
For she had never seen such gelid eyes. Oh, how they burn like a raging fire within frozen glaciers, an impossible cold curiosity that burns relentlessly at her resolve. Like a predator, he lounges with the knowledge that he has her clutched between his fearsome maw, and no matter how she struggled, there was no escaping from a trap of her own making.
And she wonders why he does not bite down; destroy her as ruthlessly as he desires. Perhaps it was her suffering that he seeks, like a large predator toying with his meal before he savors its flesh saturated by fear and seasoned with helplessness.
How fittingly cruel of him, the most fitting personification of sin that she ever had the pleasure to behold with her own eyes.
The frigid air changes as he rises and prowls; the light, deliberate clicks of his shoes eroded at her sanity. There, through the crumbling visages of her deceit, slim fingers start to tremble underneath the safety a billowing sleeve, obscured from the piercing gaze of the vulturine before her –
For the curved edges of his smile are as sharp as daggers; carving a hole through her poor imitation to the lost girl underneath. And there he must see her for what she truly was; for underneath the mask; the strained curve of her upturned lips, resided a young beggar whose head laid upon the glistening, hungry guillotine.
Her heat-beat quickens with fear, pumping no blood but only dread of what’s to come as he circles her, and there, her sword will coo in bloodlust –
But instead, the voices shriek a fearful crescendo, and Rose gasps. They scream of escape, of fear of worse things than even madness and death – And Rose belatedly realizes that the predator before her is more fearsome than what she first envisioned, for she knows not of anything the condensed madness of the Soulprison could fear.
In the silent eternity of his piercing gaze, Rose wonders if her reaper could see the shards of her shattered confidence strewn across the floor.
But as soon as it had begun, the voices silence themselves, and soon, Rose was left alone once again, a sweet solitude that a beggar like herself had not tasted for years.
Rose did not know when her hands reached up to clutch at her ears, but when she removed them, slowly, inch by inch, still - only blessed silence graces her ears.
“You can hear them.” She hears the sound of her own enraptured exhales, and the absence of sound is so strange, so terribly foreign – but Rose craves it so dearly, so greedily.
(Zenko was no longer the only one – and even as she struggled to comprehend the foreboding deity before her; what this all meant, Rose already hated the part of her that cried out in joy.)
“It was you, wasn’t it? You told them to stop.” Rose whispered, all at once fearful and admiring. “What…are you?”
