BLESSED BY A BITCH FROM A BASTARD SEED
pleasure to meet you, but better to bleed
He grinds his jaw against some thought or emotion that Teiran isn't privy to, cannot know. She thinks that he is like a damn that is too full, has too much pressure at its back. Cracking, wearing down, waiting to explode open. She wonders how muddied the waters held at bay inside him are, how black with dirt and debris.pleasure to meet you, but better to bleed
Then Mathias speaks and Teiran gets a glimpse of those churning waves. 'I am a monster,' he says on a growl, but in Teiran's ears it sounds like a cry. Like a shout, a scream, desperate, ringing toward the sky. It sounds like an accusation, like the crack of a gavel passing judgement, like the silent, poignant pointing of a finger. It sounds like familiarity.
"Do you think I am a monster?" Teiran asks him with glittering sage eyes, straightening her neck and looking at the man before her. "I've been called a monster, but it doesn't make me one." She has been called more than a monster over the years. She's heard them whisper when she walks by them on the street. Not all bad things, but much of it. Some have pity, some have fear, disgust, guilt.
Despite all his anger, all his boiling hate (at himself? At her, the world?), Teiran looks at him and sees a desert full of half-starved children (love, food, hope, starved of it all) with blank eyes and silver collars. She sees a young filly with green eyes and trembling legs, wandering the streets alone. She sees it all, in flashes, too distant for her to grasp. "Because I know what it's like to be abandoned."
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