[M] I threw us into the flames

Ezekiel de le Poer · 06-28-2012, 03:55 AM

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There was something so blatant and flippant about the way Sirius spoke that lit old flames deep in his belly, where they had been snuffed by the weight of Inferni’s rule. His chains were gone now, and with them, any need or desire to act or behave as his clansmen expected. So his toothy smile, all daggers and knives, glistened in the moonlight and welcomed the poison that his would-be brother offered. A hand the color of dried blood was grasped by dark mahogany and sand, and this warrior’s greeting was welcomed, and familiar. He had bid Myrika farewell with it. The fresh sting of that irony did not fall short on him, and his smile faltered long before the question came.

He stared up at Sirius, not challenging, not even demanding, but ultimately sad and ultimately sorry. The arm under his hand felt solid and warm and real, and he clung to it now as if he needed to be grounded. For a long time he said nothing and finally, as it had before, the words spilled from his mouth. “I’m leaving,” he said, and unlike when he had told Myrika, his voice waivered. “I don't belong there,” Ezekiel added, desperately, looking into the Thistle King’s eyes as if he might understand why when the others had not. Someone had to understand.

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