[M] I threw us into the flames

Ezekiel de le Poer · 06-28-2012, 05:32 AM

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After so long, even this felt hollow. Something in the air between them rippled and shattered as a hand flew down and struck him hard enough that his vision blacked out for an instant. He was aware of the claws digging into his arms, of the hot rage radiating from Sirius’ body, and under a haze of blonde-white hair he saw a monster that looked so familiar to him now, even more then he had moments ago. This was what they were. Savages. Monsters. They were the cannibal ghosts that he still saw, chasing him. There were such terrible things in the woods besides eagles; there were serpents, and tigers, and stags.

Then suddenly his lungs were filled with warm air and the raw, potent musk of the Thistle King. Ezekiel felt his ribs ache from the force of the embrace and a part of him welcomed that. It was enough that his face broke into an honest smile, and he began to laugh, breathlessly, into the thick pelt and the sinewy muscles. He laughed because he didn’t know what else to say, or do, and both of his hands reached up beyond the body pressed against his own. One dug sharply into the strong back and the other found its home in the thick, tousled hair of the dark coyote. Ezekiel forced his head back and stared into his eyes, laughing still, and felt his heart rip asunder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and meant it. He knew exactly what he was leaving and he knew that this man, alone among his peers, would suffer. There was only so much pretense that one could survive. Madness was black and thick and part of them, like Legion, part of them, like their legacy and their lineage, and it always would be. They had fallen to each other in those times of doubt and strife and now, they would be alone. They would be with others but somehow always alone. “I’m not your subject, Thistle King,” he said lowly. “I don’t answer to you.”

And he smiled.

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