[Worship] My unconquerable soul

[Raum]

 
Vengeance. His prayer comes back to him, no less a prayer than a vow. It pours from the shadows like midnight pouring from the sky. It came from a voice with no earthly belonging.
 
Out of the darkness she comes, adorned in midnight’s splendour. Raum thought he knew midnight, ah, he thought he knew darkness, but nothing compares to her.  She drifts as shadows might, pouring across the floor of her temple. Liquid black turns to solid skin, but oh her hair remains spectral and wild.
 
Through the blue of his eyes (as bright as the teeth that gleam beneath her obsidian lips) he drinks in his goddess. She steps into the light beside him and his lips close tight to stop a stray command. Stop. He might have told her then, for the darkness suited her better, always.
 
Yet Caligo does not stop (she never would have, even had he spoken), for his part he does not sway or balk as she comes to stand before him. She is close, too close. Even darkness struggles to pass between the space she left between them. It is but a breath, just a hair’s breadth; if he moved they might touch. Oh to touch!
 
Midnight meets silver in the darkness of her temple. He is the moonlight to her night, the flash of steel to deliver her justice. Raum does not move, his skin is silver metal, his body a fierce statue.
 
His breath is a tangle in his throat as hers pours over the mercury of his skin. Raum is poison but his goddess is the alchemist that made him so. Only she knows the antidote to his wicked crimes. He breathes out, slow, smooth as if his goddess was not stood there as if he merely stared at another Denoctan.
 
She speaks and the words are static between them. He lifts his electric eyes to gaze upon her, her shadows rise, a stray hair reaches for him and seems to stop. Obediently his own silvered hair rises to meet it, until it too stops short. A veil of divinity lies between them. It keeps the mortal, mortal and the goddess divine. Yet it is so thin! He could strike through that paper-thin veil – were he any other man.
 
Instead, Raum drinks Caligo in, he basks in her presence, though his gaze does not soften and his lips do not tip into a smile for her. How long has it been since his lips have known how to wear a smile? Wildness, fearlessness, anger and retribution are painted across the lines of his face. Raum is the art of chaos, or war and vengeance. He was made for darkness and here is home.
 
Quicksilver. That is the name she gives him, from ebony lips that smile like pitch. Midnight is the name upon his tongue, one he does not speak, but he names her so, in the silence of his quicksilver mouth.
 
“Ours, Caligo.” He answers the goddess at last, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Her name is curling smoke upon his tongue, there and then gone. His daggers gleam wicked and keen beneath them. “Does is need to be categorised? My vengeance is for those who have been rejected. All of them.” At the last he tips his chin the slant of his gaze razor sharp and hot with promise.
 
She commands him to pick up his steel and obediently he does, his gaze never falling away from her as he lifts the keen daggers from their resting place. They hang beside the Midnight goddess and her Quicksilver soldier, tight in the grasp of their master.
 
“What vengeance do you seek?” He asks of her in satin, with a voice that pours like whiskey. A dagger slowly rotates in the air, its hilt tipping away from him to point at Caligo. There it hangs before her, in offering, in challenge. That static between them heightens and their darkness seethes. “We have been rejected by those we loved. You know the pain like I do. This vengeance is ours.” And still he stands close to her, his body unmoved, his soul quaking like clashing stars.
 
“What will you have me do?” He murmurs into the thin, thin space between them as the darkness seethes and drinks and basks.

---

@Random Events I am sorry, my muse exploded :o