08-16-2009, 10:50 PM
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Samael could have remained cool and collected his entire life, like the proper prince he was meant to be. But madness and disease had allowed amusement to stem forth from deranged, unhinged irrationality and shrieking at the top of his lungs like some sort of uncontrollable banshee. Others feared far further the uncollected man, unsure what he’d do next and backing away in concern to remain alive, despite the enigma of the levelheaded, withdrawn beast. All feared the unknown and that they couldn’t understand, and the madman was the epitome of the unknown and the dangerous. He knew exactly what he was doing, and fangs bared—hidden delight masked beneath the face of aggression and pure hatred. Her face showed how she truly felt despite words stating she believed him other than hideous and monstrous. He grinned now, leaning close as he’d succeeded in backing her against a brick wall. “Because you are lovely, and I no longer am,” he purred, reaching to grasp a strand of her hair between his fingers and gently twist it there. Her scent was delightful, so filled with fear as her lungs withdrew oxygen from the atmosphere.
“I just can’t stand when others are far more beautiful than me,” he continued, adoring the rapid fluttering of her heart within her chest as it thumped, pumping blood to all her extremities. He wished to taste that heart’s brilliant life force, cutting her open to see what lay within. Would the soul be caged within, black or white like no gray area could possibly exist between? He’d never found the soul despite how many bodies he’d cut apart, searching. He’d found everything else—the heart, still beating, the lungs, still gasping for life-giving air. But he’d never yet found that elusive soul and it dismayed him, angry at such a simple perplexity. How could it exist if he could not see it? He knew he had a soul, the demon prince he was, but what of these worthless creatures that inhabited the earth? Did any of them have souls, like he was supposed to believe?
Samael could have remained cool and collected his entire life, like the proper prince he was meant to be. But madness and disease had allowed amusement to stem forth from deranged, unhinged irrationality and shrieking at the top of his lungs like some sort of uncontrollable banshee. Others feared far further the uncollected man, unsure what he’d do next and backing away in concern to remain alive, despite the enigma of the levelheaded, withdrawn beast. All feared the unknown and that they couldn’t understand, and the madman was the epitome of the unknown and the dangerous. He knew exactly what he was doing, and fangs bared—hidden delight masked beneath the face of aggression and pure hatred. Her face showed how she truly felt despite words stating she believed him other than hideous and monstrous. He grinned now, leaning close as he’d succeeded in backing her against a brick wall. “Because you are lovely, and I no longer am,” he purred, reaching to grasp a strand of her hair between his fingers and gently twist it there. Her scent was delightful, so filled with fear as her lungs withdrew oxygen from the atmosphere.
“I just can’t stand when others are far more beautiful than me,” he continued, adoring the rapid fluttering of her heart within her chest as it thumped, pumping blood to all her extremities. He wished to taste that heart’s brilliant life force, cutting her open to see what lay within. Would the soul be caged within, black or white like no gray area could possibly exist between? He’d never found the soul despite how many bodies he’d cut apart, searching. He’d found everything else—the heart, still beating, the lungs, still gasping for life-giving air. But he’d never yet found that elusive soul and it dismayed him, angry at such a simple perplexity. How could it exist if he could not see it? He knew he had a soul, the demon prince he was, but what of these worthless creatures that inhabited the earth? Did any of them have souls, like he was supposed to believe?