Michael
OUT OF DARKNESS INTO THE LIGHT
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
IF YOU WANT ME GONE
Was that really necessary? Placing her food all over the table like that? Fingers itched to snag at least one of the items -the dried meat was the most tempting, and he stared at it a lot longer than he'd looked at Maea. Was always thinking about the future and his travels, where to get extra food, how much to carry before he got too tired to walk anymore. Always in conflict with the present moment.
Surprise there when she broke a pastry in two and offered him not a piece but an entire half. Paranoia always his shadow, a constant delegator to his choices, he was hesitant at first. But then, when he saw her nibbling her piece, he slowly took it between dusty digits that smelled like soil and stone and sweat. Sniffed at it, considered all the reasons why he would be important enough for her to make such an effort to kill and found very few, if any at all.
Unlike her, his bite wasn't small. He chomped down on it and barely chewed before he devoured the rest. Experience telling him that there were plenty of assholes out there who would take what he had.
"I have."
Those two words set a chill along the length of his spine. The kind that crept gradually, its lingering cold growing the longer it remained.
Michael had ONE word for Maea in that moment:
Fuck.
Not expressed outwardly, but she might see it in the stiffening of muscles, in the way his brows pinched together. A slow, uneasy breath parting from lips surrounded gritted teeth.
And now she wanted him to describe it?
Well, THAT was easy enough:
"Some tone deaf moron who loves the sound of his own voice." A slow shrug of his shoulders as he snatched a piece of her dried meat and stuffed it into his mouth. " Talking about being a part of some Family. Pointless monotone that doesn't actually tell you anything other than how god damn lonely this asshole must be."
Surprise there when she broke a pastry in two and offered him not a piece but an entire half. Paranoia always his shadow, a constant delegator to his choices, he was hesitant at first. But then, when he saw her nibbling her piece, he slowly took it between dusty digits that smelled like soil and stone and sweat. Sniffed at it, considered all the reasons why he would be important enough for her to make such an effort to kill and found very few, if any at all.
Unlike her, his bite wasn't small. He chomped down on it and barely chewed before he devoured the rest. Experience telling him that there were plenty of assholes out there who would take what he had.
"I have."
Those two words set a chill along the length of his spine. The kind that crept gradually, its lingering cold growing the longer it remained.
Michael had ONE word for Maea in that moment:
Fuck.
Not expressed outwardly, but she might see it in the stiffening of muscles, in the way his brows pinched together. A slow, uneasy breath parting from lips surrounded gritted teeth.
And now she wanted him to describe it?
Well, THAT was easy enough:
"Some tone deaf moron who loves the sound of his own voice." A slow shrug of his shoulders as he snatched a piece of her dried meat and stuffed it into his mouth. " Talking about being a part of some Family. Pointless monotone that doesn't actually tell you anything other than how god damn lonely this asshole must be."
YOU PULL THE TRIGGER YOURSELF
