ISKRA
Vesper couldn’t know something like this unless it was true. It doesn’t make sense otherwise—Vesper isn’t in his head, and he’s not this vicious. Maybe Mel had told him, laughing one night along the strip of beach they used to run down. Maybe he'd been there when Ludo made the deal. Maybe it’s just how gods work, and Vesper, another demi-god, just knows better.
Maybe Iskra can get his head out of his ass.
Nah.
He stares at the tilted world, breath curling against the snow cradling his cheek, prickling with cold. Iskra might have remained there, content to wallow in his own writhing misery, a familiar place for him. Except, as Vesper's shadows withdraw, as his shoes crunch against the snow, as he turns to walk away, he opens his big fucking mouth again. That sharp-toothed wrath flares brilliantly again, a blaze of action among the darkness of dread. As only someone who is afraid of losing something can, Iskra tightens his grip on the notion of Melita, on the idea that she is his. Vesper’s words are a veiled threat—to yank her away, like two bulls rutting over a doe, and Vesper’s the one who trots off victorious.
Iskra shoves himself to his feet, ice patchworked across his sides, already melting into his jacket as he thunders after Vesper’s retreating back. With a roar, he lunges, aiming to tackle the fuckwad. “DON’T YOU FUCKING GO NEAR HER!”
Maybe Iskra can get his head out of his ass.
Nah.
He stares at the tilted world, breath curling against the snow cradling his cheek, prickling with cold. Iskra might have remained there, content to wallow in his own writhing misery, a familiar place for him. Except, as Vesper's shadows withdraw, as his shoes crunch against the snow, as he turns to walk away, he opens his big fucking mouth again. That sharp-toothed wrath flares brilliantly again, a blaze of action among the darkness of dread. As only someone who is afraid of losing something can, Iskra tightens his grip on the notion of Melita, on the idea that she is his. Vesper’s words are a veiled threat—to yank her away, like two bulls rutting over a doe, and Vesper’s the one who trots off victorious.
Iskra shoves himself to his feet, ice patchworked across his sides, already melting into his jacket as he thunders after Vesper’s retreating back. With a roar, he lunges, aiming to tackle the fuckwad. “DON’T YOU FUCKING GO NEAR HER!”
Never felt a feeling of comfort
And all this time, I've been hiding
I'm at one with the silence
I found peace in your violence
And all this time, I've been hiding
I'm at one with the silence
I found peace in your violence
