[AW] mojo witchcraft

[Fever]

When they were younger, Fever believed Toaru carried the sunrise in his eyes; they were gold just like her own, but his was a shade that lifted her spirits like dawn breaking the horizon, like the color of the light that shimmies and sparkles on the surface of the ocean bottled and saved for a rainy day. The kind of sunlight that parts the misery of storm clouds and whispers a promise of a rainbow. 

And yet her own reflection in those eyes was alien.

She was now just a stranger to him.

His eyes no longer held the same warmth – and they warned her, dared her to continue her charade. As he began to eat the distance between them, panic was aflutter in her breast, her gaze breaking from his face to quickly dart to her peripherals to seek an exit. How fickle she was to already be searching for evasion. 

She knows there is nowhere to run.

When he speaks to her about dying, she momentarily hesitates, her eyes glossing over with the sudden flood of memories of her attempt to meet him that night: she remembers being apprehended, she recalls fighting the need to call out to him, she relives her sweet mother paying the price for her daughter’s disobedience. 

I did die that night. 

Knowing she could not slip away out of his grip, she lifts a hind foot and stomps it in place, the bulk of her tail attempting to swat back and forth, agitated and feline-like; it was a subtle warning in response to him coming closer. She was not afraid of whatever anger he harbored towards her, in fact, it was well deserved, but she was mortified of what words might come out of his mouth, knowing that he still might have the power to soften her, to weaken her walls. 

She remembers their city – she was too naïve to be talking as big as she was, full of herself, high on hopes of creating paradise, for holding his hand and leading him away from this starving kingdom. Somewhere where the children could run free without rationing their energy in worry of when their next meal would come, somewhere where currency was as unvaluable as the dirt under their feet, somewhere that Fever and Toaru could count the stars all night without being interrupted by the ghosts of their families. 

But for now, her apology was an animal caged in her teeth and she was not yet keen on letting it loose.

“Oh, Toaru, tsk tsk-,“ she purrs in false charm, “You thought I was dead but yet Solterra still stands? Why, if it were the other way around, I would have burned this city down for you.” There was a hint of solemnity in the spice of her voice, though the scythe of her smile was still present. Was she questioning his loyalty to her?

The sarcasm drips from her words,“I’m absolutely thrilled to hear you’re still parading around with those fantasies.”

Fever begins to angle her body away from him, testing his reaction, whether he’d let her walk away or demand answers from her. Perhaps he wouldn't entertain her games at all. “Tell me, honestly now, have you been spending your days wasting away? Are you enamored with the love of your life? Have many children? Lost the gall to get out of this place? What really holds you here?”  She continues to cut away little by little, each question laced with the intention to aggravate him, hoping to get some information out him - praying that his answers wouldn't break her heart in the meantime. 

Alas, her last statement is flawed in delivery, her coy guise slips temporarily, and her voice is raw as she realizes he still should have sought paradise without her. 

“You were supposed to leave that night.” she says softly, the hint of a whine choked at the end.

All Fever ever wanted for Toaru was a good life.

He deserved everything that his younger self wished for. It crushed Fever to know he stayed behind.

All she ever wanted was the image of his smile forever painted on his mouth.

@Toaru

CODE IMAGE