He is the mercury to her sunfire. The ice to her flames. He wonders why the waters do not hiss when she steps into the lake. He wonders if her touch will burn – consume him from the inside out. Was she the consort of the sun god Solis? She seemed to be in every physical way.
He meets her solar eyes with an electric gaze – blue sparks that hiss between them. To soon he turns to the water, the way it ripples and paints this girl’s reflection. It paints her before the night sky – she is littered in stars, but she is the red sun, set to consume them all.
When she looks to him, she thinks of a ghost – but not the Ghost he is. Not the specter Denocte labels him as. She thinks of phantoms that haunt her family line, historical ghosts that linger just out of her mind’s reach. Raum is not that, but he is a wraith of flesh and blood. He is a monster that makes the blood run cold in death. He has delivered many to the door of hell, but he waits for his own chariot as he teaches his daughter to fight like a Crow. She already dances like an assassin, with her small blade held fast to her slender limb.
The devil lifts his chin and regards her as she speaks. He feels the heat of those words, but only as a hot wound. “Our reflections are always lacking.” He murmurs with a velveteen voice. It pours between them, thick and rich, a lavish drink, indulgent and silver.
“it is not easy to hold a mirror up to ourselves.” The Crow continues, looking to the silver monster in the lake. It looks to him with blue, blue eyes and a knife sharp smile that twists and turns in the water. He wears no smile upon his real lips.
“I see a lie.” He says softly, simply. Ripples run away from where he stirs within the water. But even in that he lies, for in his reflection Raum sees so many, many lies.
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![[Image: x341oLX.png]](https://i.imgur.com/x341oLX.png)
You're one microscopic cog
in his catastrophic plan
in his catastrophic plan
