set fire to the rain

Alaine Winters · 07-28-2011, 02:34 AM

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Word Count → 3+ ::

There was something different about him, about Lugh. He was weaker, older. Was he the enemy? She was having difficulty remembering - Having difficulty remembering anything but the pain and the rage and the terrible, terrible sadness. Had there been a time before this one? There were others that she knew - A small cream girl and a boy with startling blue eyes, a boy who looked like the Raven King. But they were small and pale in comparison to the fury, and the memory of the man with the kind sky-eyes and the lopsided smile. Caillen is dead. My son, my heart.

Sadness hurt more than anger, so she allowed the aggression to return, black lips writhing over teeth that felt much larger than they ever had before. She was larger, larger than life - Almost as big as the Raven. But he remained in her way, ignorant of the wrath she held within, the leashed terror that sought to tear the rest of her world into oblivion.

His voice was familiar, but she did not want to hear it. She did not want to hear reason. His observation provoked a sickly laugh from her, a sound of pain. "Lugh Tá goideadh mo chroí, and now I am dead inside," The snarl returned, and a flash of lightning lit her cream and ivory fur and gilded it silver. Her breathing was rough and ragged, hissing between her teeth as the pagan witch stared into the burning eyes of the man her mortal self had loved. He had betrayed her, too. They all had. "Your blood did this to me," A harsh whisper, and perhaps her emerald eyes flickered for a moment with the ghost of old sorrow, the Alaine that he knew in body and mind. She shook her head, and it was gone. "Beidh mé mo díoltas. The life of the man who took the life of my son!" Was she truly capable of murder? Caillen is dead. It hurt, it hurt so much to breath.

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