Tampering with devotion.

Stalker-ish (3)

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Stalker-ish (3)

I remembered a cute fairytale Vallone once read to me. A Human tale called Alice in wonderland. It was so wild. I think I can sympathize with her initial reaction, right after she fell. When Alice fell down that rabbit hole, she was terrified, stunned because just a second ago she was carefully leaning over and the next, she was plunging to an otherwise impending death.

I guess my point is; pretty much anything unintentional happens fast, so fast that it becomes a part of the moment so easily, that it would almost feel like you weren’t doing anything before that. Alice wasn’t sitting safely above ground, her hands weren’t secure enough to steady her—and here I was, looking at my future state if I were to continue to defy this bind if I didn’t find a way to break it…if I were to ever try to shift again…

I cannot bring myself to look away from his misshapen limbs, swollen in areas, terribly swollen, sunken in others, half reptilian- Basilisk, scaled white, but their color has faded, become almost grimy, lackluster in form and pitch black as if bruised too purple.

What led him to this state didn’t matter- what made Alice want to follow the rabbit didn’t matter, she ended up paying for it- this man ended up paying for it. I will end up paying for it… Oh, my gosh…oh, gosh. It’s as if the severity of this possibility hadn’t hit me until now because I was believing everyone when they said it would be okay when they cheer me on, that they know that I can do it- how do they know?! When I don’t even know?! I’ve fallen into this rabbit hole alone! I’m falling and I see where I’ll land; crumpled, shriveled away in a pathetic state, tricking unsuspecting people into ridiculous dealings in exchange for a piece of their normal that was once my own.

My own…what can I even call my own anymore?

I feel my flesh ripping first, the blood spilling comes next. Flowing freely after having splashed like a hydrant bursting through my back, then comes the hot, white pain, searing my insides, each inch of torn skin and tissue stinging with the same unholy intensity, like someone was pulling a loose thread from a cloth, or as embers eat away at that which burns, excitedly, mercilessly. Aldos used my stunned state well, he’d taken a stake- yes, an actual stake, undoubtedly malorium that was fastened to his hip and thrust it right through the right side of my chest. A gasp left my mouth, the only air I could get out in that moment, and when I breathed it back in, time flowed normally. Aldos was twisting the stake and shouting curses at me, using that weight and determination to stand up and push me down.

“Zylorina!”

Both of their voices reach me and the pure anger and agony imbued in them is an entirely different pain. Zion had a bit of blood on his face, bent above a pinned-down Henry who was trying to keep the so-called wand he’d used in the ritual from choking him. Our eyes meeting is unfortunate for Henry, as those sorrel eyes alighted with divine reckoning. Zions' skin ripples into scales, his ears peak into points, and he was no longer simply Zion. He snaps the wand in half and knees Henrys’ arm down while he snatches the other in a grip, he bruises his face turn after turn, until Henry could do nothing but sputter and spit.

Gemini is harder to see at first, but he’d ended up maneuvering himself within sight as he dodged the swinging Excalibur. Alphonse swung with such strength and poise, his intent to kill was clear in every strike. He still wore his mask, but it was still obvious somehow that he had a certain sense of fulfillment in his eyes, they twinkled in awe while Geminis’ burned in tamed cruelty.

It was cruelty, no other word seemed to fit the blunt expression on his face; it wasn't twisted in anger, contorted with worry, or even a faltering scowl. It was calm, undisturbed, and perfect as a still pond, however, the anticipation he breathed in and the callous indifference he kept when the sword nicked his upper arm, was unnerving. It was cruel.