Swirling clouds rumbled over him, threatening him each step with the possibility of being struck down by lightning, yet never did the storm get any nearer. Tiresias tried to run away from the blackened sky, which was so clear to him despite his dead optic nerves. He could see in excruciating detail each delicate wisp that curled on the thicker aspect of the thunderhead until it disappeared into the larger body. He could see the bright yellow arcs of the lightning cutting sharply across the glass ceiling, and the brightness hurt his eyes but he could not look away so enamored was he in his ability to see all of this. The kalak prince wanted nothing more than to stay and watch its evolution – there was something pulling him toward it – he wished and wanted to get nearer the storm, to enjoy the danger of it. To feel the electricity pull his hairs up away from his body only moments before the next strike landed on the earth. But though his heart and every nerve in his being begged him to stay, his mind told him it was wrong. Though the carnal desire within him was attracted to the fury, the disruption of nature’s peace, it was not right to desire it, but rather it needed to be feared. And so his paws dug deep into the mud that had formed deep in swamps around his paws, but each step was harder and harder to complete. Soon, instead of running, he was barely making any progress. He peered back and saw that despite the distance he had covered, the storm was no closer nor any further. Yet the further he tried to run away from the storm, the darker his vision got, and he screamed and whined until all detail, all color, bled away and faded into nothingness. His body became cold and he wanted only to turn around and regain his vision, feel some semblance of happiness, but he continued forward… and down… down… down… until the mud sunk into his mouth and drown him.

‘Good morning Tiresias’

The words had roused him, as did the kiss upon his cheek and the sudden throbbing in his loins. His lids tore themselves apart, but no light flooded in, nor did any images of storms nor clouds nor lightning. There was nothing, nothing but darkness. Once again he felt a throbbing between his legs, and could feel himself starting to swell within his lover, his friend… his enemy. Just as it had been within his dream, his heart was pulling him toward Castiel, and almost subconsciously he bucked his hips forward, pushing himself deeper in, penetrating the brute with whom he had cuddled throughout the entire night. But his dream had been a warning – only at this point, he would not understand it, at least not correctly. For now, in this time, he believed that death would come to him should he continue to give in to his urges. Perhaps not a physical death, but a spiritual death, one in which he would be eternally damned. And in that instant, all of the tiny little thoughts that had been shoved to the back of his mind last night whilst they had been in the throes of passion emerged from the shadows, amplified tenfold from his fear that had been elicited by the dream. And it felt as if a knife had been shoved deep into his abdomen and then twisted. Abruptly, Tiresias withdrew his sword from its tight warm scabbard and he leapt away from Castiel.

“Demon! Defiler!” Tiresias spit the words at Castiel with just as much passion as he had had when he had fucked him. Only this time, it was intertwined with ire. However misplaced his anger, it was firmly set upon his only friend, making him a lonely beast indeed… lonely and desperately grasping onto any hope for salvation and refuge. He snarled at Castiel, his plume flicking to and fro swiftly, viciously, despite the erection that still held him firm. “You have dragged me down toward Hell, threatened my seat upon the heavens through the sin you forced upon me. You are the tempter, the seducer, meant to test my strength and faith and I have failed due to the weakness of my mind when it comes to you. But I shall give in to you no longer! Be gone from my side, Satan’s spawn! Never tarnish me from hereon until the last of my days!” Spittle flew from his lips and he inhaled sharply, infuriated and out of breath from sadness, from confusion, from anger.

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