Aster

There was no telling what I could do if I truly became angry. My anger was a fickle thing, though, swift to come and even quicker to leave. There was no truly dark thing to drive me into a madness of rage except perhaps the death or pain of those closest to me. I had felt such a terrible rage within me after my parents were gone but it had no outlet and thus had petered out. Aranck, perhaps, could have drawn it out and yet I was too young, too inexperienced to be able to DO anything worthwhile against such a nemesis. But now I was grown. I was not nearly as broad or stout as my mother yet I was thick and powerful nonetheless. A pup no more, but a Queen. I would grow into my puissance and my aura would change, no doubt, with each bit of knowledge gained.

His words are annoyances even if part of me recognizes truth in them. I did not wish to think that others looked upon me and thought negatively. I was a coward, they might think, for refusing to retake my homeland. It emboldened me now as my ears press back and I glare pointedly at Elohim. "I suppose they could," I say waspishly. "Yet I do not hide my intentions. I seek no shroud with which to play some manipulative game. Let them judge that, if they will."

But would I always?

Would I always be an open book? Bright and bold and shining? I like to think so. I was a pheonix burning bright and hopefully I wouldn't be consumed by my own fire. Even as I flash my teeth at him Elohim seems to withdraw into himself. He is a mystery when it comes down to the complete and utter truth. I trust him but he tells me the truth - I don't know those around me. Including him.

Yet when he speaks it only further infuriates me.

He reminds me of my weakness. He glories in retelling it, as if I should feel embaressment, and I do. I feel the quiver in my gut, disdain for my own reactions. I step towards him in my anger, ears pressed back as I rise my head, every inch the Empress I pretend to be. The Empress I try to be, strive to be, grow to be. Then he proceeds with those glittering eyes to speak the very language I have yet to learn and I feel it bubble up within me. I feel my anger strike out even as I press forward with a snarl and bite at his neck, overtaken by the rage that only moments before I had not thought possible.

He has pressed me long enough, bared the secret parts of me I did not wish to see, shined a light on MY darkness and I did not like it. I exploded, lashing out, but only one bite is given before I sudden recoil, a look of surprise and fear skittering across my face.

Not fear OF him - fear of what he is driving me to do. To be. I stumble back, blinking owlishly, a gasp in my voice. "Go. Get out of here." And for a moment silence, then I screech. "GO! Do whatever you want, just get out of here!" I can't help it - I am growing into a panic. What have I done? Have I ruined our friendship? Was this even a friendship? What in him inspired such a vicious spirit in me? How did my taunts and jests turn into this.. this wild, uncontrollable anger?

Would he ever forgive me?

shatter the sky; lay waste to the earth