Kiss It Better
S.P. P.O.V.
You swear and rush towards the rapidly closing prison bars.
'Why? What have I done?' you yell out.
It's Ghastly who answers your cry, and you're glad that it wasn't the prison guard about to tell you off for talking, although in way you wished it had been him, then you wouldn't have had to watch your best friends was show the betrayal you felt. His face hadn't changed since you saw it last, but it has hardened when he looks at you, only when he looks at you.
You know that you are the one to blame for this all.
'You didn't have to kill Fredric Drake, you know. He was terrified, and for a good reason. He had found out that she was Darquesse. He was doing the world a favor!' Ghastly said.
'He didn't have to kill her,' you reply even know that that your argument is getting weaker and weaker every time someone opens their mouth, and for once its not normally you.
'More right than you had to kill him,' Ghastly finished and walks away.
Your mind tries to come up with one of your normal sarcastic stinging remarks but as soon as you realise that none are coming forth, you try and summon a flame.
The magic in the room drains your own.
Two hours later and the only thing that hasn't changed is yourself. The lights had dimmed, not that they had been bright to start off with. Gentle snores, oh the irony of these hardened men snoring like babies, echo around the prison block.
Its strange.
Occasionally, it had occurred to you that there was quite possibly a day in the future when you would end up where you are now, but that was when your second wife was alive, back when she was still carrying what would have been your second chance of a family. And even then you guessed that it would have been because someone had figured out the whole Lord Vile thing.
Tears leak from your eyes and create the tiniest of puddles upon reaching the floor..
Val's killer hadn't known that she was carrying the child though.
Somehow, you had managed to end up in jail with a lighter. There was no reason for it being in your pocket other than that it was. You lit it and watch as it helps you in your quest to set the sheets on fire.
The flames quickly engulf the sheets and start to look around for more fuel.
You give it yourself.
Not a sound passes your now smiling lips as the flames kiss you, leaving scorch marks on your skin.
The heavy footfalls signal the coming Cleavers. One set of footsteps is different though and something tells you that Elder Bespoke is about to ruin your fun.
The gaol doors fling open and it takes you a moment that you are drenched in water. Even though the doors are open, which allow your magic to return to your body, you make no move to dry yourself. Or even explain your actions.
You are defeated.
You swear and rush towards the rapidly closing prison bars.
'Why? What have I done?' you yell out.
It's Ghastly who answers your cry, and you're glad that it wasn't the prison guard about to tell you off for talking, although in way you wished it had been him, then you wouldn't have had to watch your best friends was show the betrayal you felt. His face hadn't changed since you saw it last, but it has hardened when he looks at you, only when he looks at you.
You know that you are the one to blame for this all.
'You didn't have to kill Fredric Drake, you know. He was terrified, and for a good reason. He had found out that she was Darquesse. He was doing the world a favor!' Ghastly said.
'He didn't have to kill her,' you reply even know that that your argument is getting weaker and weaker every time someone opens their mouth, and for once its not normally you.
'More right than you had to kill him,' Ghastly finished and walks away.
Your mind tries to come up with one of your normal sarcastic stinging remarks but as soon as you realise that none are coming forth, you try and summon a flame.
The magic in the room drains your own.
Two hours later and the only thing that hasn't changed is yourself. The lights had dimmed, not that they had been bright to start off with. Gentle snores, oh the irony of these hardened men snoring like babies, echo around the prison block.
Its strange.
Occasionally, it had occurred to you that there was quite possibly a day in the future when you would end up where you are now, but that was when your second wife was alive, back when she was still carrying what would have been your second chance of a family. And even then you guessed that it would have been because someone had figured out the whole Lord Vile thing.
Tears leak from your eyes and create the tiniest of puddles upon reaching the floor..
Val's killer hadn't known that she was carrying the child though.
Somehow, you had managed to end up in jail with a lighter. There was no reason for it being in your pocket other than that it was. You lit it and watch as it helps you in your quest to set the sheets on fire.
The flames quickly engulf the sheets and start to look around for more fuel.
You give it yourself.
Not a sound passes your now smiling lips as the flames kiss you, leaving scorch marks on your skin.
The heavy footfalls signal the coming Cleavers. One set of footsteps is different though and something tells you that Elder Bespoke is about to ruin your fun.
The gaol doors fling open and it takes you a moment that you are drenched in water. Even though the doors are open, which allow your magic to return to your body, you make no move to dry yourself. Or even explain your actions.
You are defeated.