rise and rise again Posted on November 14, 2020 at 09:23:19 PM by Rade
to live and burn is
the most exquisite form of self destruction
You could have avoided all of this.
Rade knew that she spoke of the present, but it was the past his mind turned to. It was that darkness that his thoughts immersed himself in, and not the bright flare of life that had all but consumed him in the present. Because he could have avoided the fate that he was bound to now, if only a single event in his youth could be changed. If he could have stood beside Cherish as the brother he was, instead of betraying her trust. Even lashing out at her with his hooves and teeth - which he had done more than once to his younger half-brother - would have been preferable to this, this… abomination that had darkened his home. That threatened the world he would soon leave behind him, no longer able to determine whether or not it survived the coming storm.
But if Cullen was so depraved, then it was his fault. His seed that had grown to bear bitter fruit in the tainted soil of the Lagoon. And if there was any justice in this world, any reckoning that came for the bachelors' Boss would claim Rade, too. He deserved no less for his sins.
That reckoning was not the slender chestnut who faced him, however. The roan stallion knew it even as he embraced the pain of torn flesh, the ache of abused joints. She was little more than a passing diversion - a burr caught in the tangled threads of his mane, or a thorn that had caught beneath his golden skin. Oftentimes their kind chose to ignore these things until they slipped free of their own accord, not finding them worth the energy that was expended in extracting them. But when they clung stubbornly - when they refused to yield to the inevitability of time - there were methods to see to their removal, and Rade knew them all. As with many things in life, it was simply a matter of force applied in the right place, and at the right time.
She rambled upon about his alleged fixation, projecting emotions that the palomino had not felt since Fatale. That he could not feel anymore, because there was little more than a hole where his heart had once been. With an expression of long-suffering boredom, he even pretended to listen, though not to care. What did it matter what she chose to think of him, what she chose to believe? Her opinion was as insignificant as the words that she spoke, seeking desperately to inject some kind of reasoning into the bare, cruel truth of his dismissal. She could taunt him and attack him and bring him to his knees. She could even kill him, if she was so inclined, though that was unlikely to offer her much in the way of satisfaction.
After all, he was - as she had implied - a done old man.
Look at yourself. Even I have bested you. Rade blinked slowly, one ear sliding backwards to contribute to the false front of his bewilderment. “And do you often take pride in defeating those who are - as you’ve made clear - unworthy opponents? Is it truly such a test of your self-declared strength, to chase after an old man like a doe-eyed filly and make demands of his attentions?” Despite the relative calm of his words, something dangerous had begun to glitter in his gold eyes; a cold edge like the blade of a sword. Or a dagger in the back. Cornered - denied the freedom of the escape he had sought - Rade warred against the instincts that he had allowed to reign in his youth, and felt his control beginning to slip.
But when he continued, it was in a voice that was as soft as a lullaby. “My dear,” he began, shying away from the repulsive force of her touch like a magnet that held the same charge. “A man prefers to be invited, not invaded. But if you are so determined to press your suit, then we will see for ourselves who is powerless, and pathetic.”
Like a dam his will broke, effeminate body twisting back in her direction even as Rade sought one final, desperate lunge that would take him away. And it was not the ‘Teke that broke him, but the weight of the world that had fallen upon his weary, trembling shoulders. Years he had held impulse in check, years he had kept the hunger for violence chained within himself. Had tried to be the compassionate creature who Conquistador had once seen and been saved by. But not even a mountain could stand up before the test of time, and Rade was no mountain. He was just an ordinary man - one whose end loomed far too near as the turbulent waters of life spun beyond his control.
Now, he spun with them.
Sink or swim, as was often said in reference to the struggles that their kind faced. And Rade, weary of swimming, sank even as he rose. Sank into the oblivion that had been waiting for him as he lifted himself above and then onto her. Sank his teeth into the loose fold of flesh at the red woman’s withers.
Sank himself into her, and showed her exactly what he was capable of, in a life that had ended long ago.