He leaves no inch of her uncovered by his scrutiny and his cruelty. And so Sereia tips her chin up as if it is pride and not blood that runs through her veins.
The stranger thinks of death, of the harrowing things he has seen and the wet death he has brought to innocent animals. Even without knowing how he hunts and the myriad souls he clasps with his claw-like hand (those he has severed from their bodies as he delivers death with golden tears and cruel, impassive eyes), Sereia has already begun to think that he is the most villainous creature here.
This man drowns, he sinks into his cruelty, he sculpts himself by it. He kills and it is without a fragment of remorse. Yet before him, the seawolf weeps for those to whom she has brought an untimely death. Her heart would tremble to know how a rabbit lies as its blood leaks out from its lifeless corpse. Even if death looked peaceful, she would not wish it to be by her doing.
His gaze presses upon her exposed bones, the shape of them, sharp beneath her skin like roots rising out of the earth. He blurs, through her tears and her outrage. He is definitely the more cruel. This ebony dragon cuts her down with words that slay her pride. To think she had thought him divine! To think she was awed by his savage beauty.
He bleeds his golden blood, it leaves drops upon the cobbles at their feet. It scents the air, warm and sweet, delectable. Sereia does not flinch with want, she does not stir from the statue of skin and bone she has become. Instead she holds the stranger with a gaze that sinks teeth and claws into his soul. “And I will wait for you in hell,” Sereia snarls, her voice a swan’s hiss as her nape arches, beautiful, regal, furious. “You think to cast your bitterness upon others. You are no god with a right to belittle others. You bleed not ichor but poison made from your twisted, hurting heart. The smell of your soul is bitter.” With every word, every breath she steps toward him until her ire and her hurt brings her teeth to his cheek. He knows what she is, so she does not hide herself from him. He has exposed before himself her every horrific, shameful, edge and piece so now she curls into it, she lets herself glow, dangerous and feral.
“Tell me what killed you and neutralised your compassion as it birthed that monster of cruelty within you.”
@
an unspoken soliloquy of dreams
~ Ariana
