sins of our flesh; tris

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a e s o n kight .

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You're a lost man, Aeson Kight.

That's how you considered yourself after the peacekeeper's rescued you from the shadow of your parent's corpses. Wrapping you in white sheets and taking you to an orphanage were you could grow true and you did. You were the unstoppable force, a hurricane of prepubescent tantrums that would learn to grow into battle cries. At six you were blackening eyes and giggling at crushed sandcastles, at fourteen you were breaking bones beneath your boot and at seventeen you were running alleyway gutters with red and staining silver in the shades. You're an unstoppable force; driven by the lustful desire to feel your heart racewithin your ribcage.

You spot the similarities in her movements to yours, the indifference in her tone of voice and handling her sword like an extension of herself. The blade glints, half formed moonlight against its edge, and her voice slowly drones into background noise. She sounds mad, pissed even, at the unstoppable force daring to test her metal.

You're impressed.

You stare, blunting the edge of her words against your skin and keep your vision fixated on the sword bathed in promise in her hand. You don't flinch and you certainly don't move, despite the fact that there isn't a single peacekeeper in sight or escape route that isn't blocked.

"You know well as I do that I'm only here to train,"

Your grin doesn't flicker along your features, especially not when her sword edges closer to your neck. No safety in sight; a simple moonlit flash and you wouldn't fade, you would shatter. Your sins bleeding onto a silver streaked ground as you collapsed onto purple knees and saw nothing despite your wide eyes -- ("take me to it, I dare you.")

"Go on then, consider me your target practice."

You wait for a steel song that'll never be sung.

You wonder what it would take for this immovable object to crumble, there's more than one way to break a person. Even when they dress themselves in finery and set hollow crowns upon their curls, even when they're broken into infinite small pieces and they're nothing but shells of what they once were. It wouldn't be easy, but enough prodding against her pressure points, enough twisting through the jungle of indifference that surrounds her and you'd find it. Perhaps it would come with your fingers wrapped around that beautiuful throat of hers, perhaps it would come with a dozen shattered digits and red lines along her wrists.

With the way she carries herself, you can't help but wonder if the motion of the Earth itself would grind to a halt with the fading of her silver heartbeat.

The fun came in finding out.

You're watching her closely when she moves to set her weapon back along the rack, attention to detail never wavering in the sway of her hips and the twist of her curves. You catch her gaze from over her shoulder. "Maybe I do want you. What do you think of that?"

You suppose finding out can wait. After all, you'd be met with a legion of broken souls from anywhere between the next seven days or the next seventy years and your last good tumble was with Amity back in Six. Someone coated in finerys so thick, you never thought to wonder how you could strip her to her secrets.

You let your grin fall.

"Well, I'd think that's tempting in itself. Possibly worth my time," you answer, stepping forwards with your hands in your pockets and void in your voice. You've never been one to show excitement after all, you weren't annointed with brimstone and fire for being an emotional cunt. You're anchored to the promise of that special place in hell all the madmen rave about in their final breaths, not the vague promises of a seductress.

"It's wise to have allies."

You scoff but you decide to continue to listen to what she has to say as she makes for the door, never letting your eyes slip. You don't just hear, you listen and let every word wash over you.

"Will you follow, Aeson? Will you kill me?"

You imagine the sound of her heartbeat faltering within your fist and your smile threatens to make its resurgance.

You don't follow, but you take a place next to her as you traverse through the hallway from the empty training centre. "Well, if you're just asking me back to yours, I'll come," You let your words hang but this isn't you promising anything. You don't need allies, for you've been vagabond with nothing but apathy to guide your way for twelve years and you've never lost your way. "Make it worth my while and I'll happily kill you. You wouldn't be the first life I've stolen and crushed in my hands and you certainly wouldn't be the last." The corners of your lips pull into a small yet flickering grin.

You've lost count of the number of people you've banished to early graves. Perhaps a graveyard stretches further than the galaxy itself and they rot for a creed that calls for bloody vengeance within the special place in hell waiting for you. Broken souls; they cry shades of withering crimson and yet you're the one without a sense of direction.

"But I'm no dog that's going to dance when you whistle, and if you give me a knife and turn your back to me I'll probably cut your throat." You shrug your shoulders as you state simple fact and come to a halt by the elevator. "You don't own me, Euley, you never have and you never will; make sure you remember that."

You see no need to become Shadow Svenin, to shroud yourself in shadows and hide your despciable self behind a mask crafted from deceit and baseless human error. You live for unrefined brutality and a jagged crown of brimstone, you were never tamed when you were six and you can never be tamed now.

So you let a half playful smile play across your features, and press your finger against the button and entertain the thought of not wandering through a field of loneliness with nothing but apathy upon your sleeve, pretending to have direction when you lost your way at six. You look her up and down, transgressions building beneath your stone skin and cold eyes.

("Oh Ripred: save our son's soul from greed, turn him from wroth and shield him from lust.")

You're lost, but you never wanted to be found.

"You want me right? So, how will you make it worth my while?"

Slow and calculated; you edge yourself closer to her and wonder if she'll lose herself too.