DARIEN VALENTINE
“ I think my passion is misinterpreted as anger sometimes. And I don't think people are ready for the message that I'm delivering, and delivering with a sense of violent love.”
Everything ends with a loose thread once it’s swallowed up by the ultimatum; the incurably certain that collects the drying drops of existence felled from their lofty spot amongst the living. Death. It was unbiased, poised, completely fair, and without compassion or favoritism. It was an uncaring and relentless force of raw power; the rock and the corner stone to life. Without it, there could be no birth, and with it, there will be no resurrection. Death, it was so looked down upon, dreaded, despised, and loathed. After every loved one dies, those frayed ends left untidy and blowing about, a sore thumb sticking out of a turning world- going on without the one you care about most. After, you’ll wander around, searching for a purpose that’s not there to find, secretly hoping that you too will find death. Find the eternal peace, the solitude and contentment meant for those meaningless strands of slack fiber, to finally, after all we’ve endured, suffered and slogged through, fit in. And this, this was what confused me. As I sat here, examining the revering effigy so composed bellow me, not the least afraid at the borders of the most notoriously vicious pack, I couldn’t fit the pieces together. They dispersed in my head, jarring free the systematized structure that I thought through and creating a muted picture that, although I could see, couldn’t quite make out. Perchance I was thinking too much on the canine, and it was something to be left be. Either way, as hard as I may try, I couldn’t quite figure him out.
”Another one, I suppose? Well, sir, you will have to see if you are accepted into Abendrot or not.” Two functioning auricles snapped to the side, swiveling about like dream catchers, fishing from the silence the familiar voice and identifying its master’s distinct reverberation, pitch and vital tenor. Jolted from my thoughtful mindset, I flicked my dusk enlarged eyes towards the female I’d come across the night of the hallucination. I didn’t think I’d see her again so soon, but I tended to remember better the sardonic and sadistic than the kind and caring. I accredited that to the fact they always seemed to come in with a bang and leave covered in blood. Blood. . . . The smell drew my full attention to the impulsive courtesan. I wasn’t dissatisfied, and I felt again reminded of her fiery brashness when I spotted her nearly nose to nose with the silver caballero on our territory’s lip, menacing words spilling from her mouth like jester’s rhymes. That’s what they were, after all, a load of mockery. Still, saliva pooled under the roof of my mouth at the spoor of it, old or new, and I felt my tongue grow heavy in my mouth. Even then, her theatrical words quirked my brow and her ‘By me or him’ comment trafficked a low chuckle from my orifices. Seeing that her attention was turned to me now, I let my expression drop, interested in what she’d do. We hadn’t really had said a proper parting the last time and first time I’d seen her, and I didn’t take her as someone to let it go too easily, and so said her accusing eyes closing in on my supercilious post, so her laugh was unexpected to say the least. “It seems that you have escaped our previous conversation, Sir-Whose-Name-is-Unknown. Now, we may resume.” I felt my own eyes twinkle as she settled closer to me and her nickname for me settled in. It was clever, actually, and now that she mentioned it, I don’t recall mentioning my name. ”I do believe you’re right. Darien Valentine, at your service.” I cooed, shifting to rest my head to rest on her paws in a way that I’d still be able to keep an eye on the elegant soldier, but maintain contact with her. Not only that, but, unconsciously, I was drawn to the scent she swathed herself in. ”And about your slaughtering comment,” I started, directing my words not only at her but at the joinee, in hope of reassuring him least her words have planted any seeds of distraught. ”Although I’d love to do so, keep in mind that we crush caterpillars and then complain that there are no butterflies- if I’m not mistaken, he’s a healer.” I’m sure she’d smelt the herbal mist, its abhorrence would be a massif to miss. Pleased to have the company, I pressed myself closer against her, my mind whirring against the muffled image set into play there, fraught to make it out. If only it were clearer
[Loveless] [Adult] [Male] [word count: 804]
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