He watched as she descended, graceful as a nymph dancing along the back of winds. A dove dressed in shades of amethyst and gold - she was a fair creature, elegant and awash in delicate beauty. She was a song come to life, dizzying and dazzling and all other colors of lovely. Her touch down upon the sands was feather light and as decadent as her image. Dainty hooves pressed crescents into the sand as she approached, effortless in her grace and breathtaking in her poise. Even her voice was melodic, a lullaby drifting over the sound of sea and wind.
If only the gods had gifted her with kinder company, for the ease with which she wore her kindness only served to pull Camdis' lips into a frown. Didn't she know he deserved none of her soft words? None of her gentle questions swathed in genuine curiosity? Didn't she realize that he was a damnable wretch, worthy of none of the friendliness that she so readily offered with those burning, beautiful eyes?
He hated her for her perfection, for her softness in the face of such a cruel world, for her strength in remaining kind and open even as the self loathing that Camdis held in his chest had infected his very core. He wanted to cradle her, to break her, to give her love that he didn't have, to justify watching her crumple at his hooves.
He wanted to hurt her because he knew it would hurt him more. To she, the swan with the shimmering soul, he was a lone creature, a wraith that could be forgotten in time; but to him? She was what he was not, she was the representation of what he had cast aside in the face of his weakness and his guilt.
It was not her fault, but he could pay pretend as well as any child.
And so he glared at her, pulling every aching ounce of vehemence from his breast and channeling it into his storm cloud gaze, praying that she didn't see the hurt that lurked beneath that disdain - because he needed it, that agony; it was the closest thing to repentance that he could touch.
"Leave me," His voice was a hiss, a shard of glass thrown without direction but with intent to harm, to wound. "You know nothing of me. I could hurt you, you stupid creature. I am a stranger, I am not what you wish for. Leave me."
If only the gods had gifted her with kinder company, for the ease with which she wore her kindness only served to pull Camdis' lips into a frown. Didn't she know he deserved none of her soft words? None of her gentle questions swathed in genuine curiosity? Didn't she realize that he was a damnable wretch, worthy of none of the friendliness that she so readily offered with those burning, beautiful eyes?
He hated her for her perfection, for her softness in the face of such a cruel world, for her strength in remaining kind and open even as the self loathing that Camdis held in his chest had infected his very core. He wanted to cradle her, to break her, to give her love that he didn't have, to justify watching her crumple at his hooves.
He wanted to hurt her because he knew it would hurt him more. To she, the swan with the shimmering soul, he was a lone creature, a wraith that could be forgotten in time; but to him? She was what he was not, she was the representation of what he had cast aside in the face of his weakness and his guilt.
It was not her fault, but he could pay pretend as well as any child.
And so he glared at her, pulling every aching ounce of vehemence from his breast and channeling it into his storm cloud gaze, praying that she didn't see the hurt that lurked beneath that disdain - because he needed it, that agony; it was the closest thing to repentance that he could touch.
"Leave me," His voice was a hiss, a shard of glass thrown without direction but with intent to harm, to wound. "You know nothing of me. I could hurt you, you stupid creature. I am a stranger, I am not what you wish for. Leave me."
@Erynvale oh goodness, I adore her. I'm sorry Cam is so terrible
