[The repetition doesn't haunt, it possesses; at this rate it's going to take a near eternity to acclimate to the dead drop feel of weightlessness that's ingrained itself within his neophytic pulse each time he braces for the worst— for what should, by all rights, come attached to an admission as damning as this one— only to remain blissfully spared the sight of narrowed eyes or dawning horror.
What a terrifying thing, realizing you'd follow someone so devoutly without coercion or a second thought.
Exhilarating, too. Moreso than all the rest.]
Not an untrue statement to be seen. [Offered through the sly tip of his clawed fingers as his own chin blithely lifts. What few of them perch broken barely detracting from the pale elf's practiced poise....and well afforded praise (for Fenris).] But I doubt he'd have chosen those exact conditions were it not a byproduct of the magic used to forever bind us to his side. Some, yes— not all.
That was the deal, you see. Bleeding at death's door in desperation, peripheral vision already a muddy swath, and in he'd swoop like a shining beacon of salvation in the night. There to save us from certain oblivion with no other hope in sight, sweet and mercifully noble. [And what a familiar tale that is.] It's the fine print that gets left out. The fact that we'll be no cherished thing once we surrender to his....alterations, but an eternal slave with no body of our own. No freedom even in our own minds, for all he'd need do was demand we speak, and sanguine compulsion gladly did the rest.
It was his curse that granted those of us too unlucky or stupid to fall victim to his offer those myriad weaknesses, along with fangs. Claws. Eyes that shine with the truth of what we are.
Another leash, to make certain we could never leave unless he bade it.
[Threaded, that narrow little pause.]
....you're the only soul I've ever met that doesn't seem to care what I've become. I don't know what to make of that.
no subject
What a terrifying thing, realizing you'd follow someone so devoutly without coercion or a second thought.
Exhilarating, too. Moreso than all the rest.]
Not an untrue statement to be seen. [Offered through the sly tip of his clawed fingers as his own chin blithely lifts. What few of them perch broken barely detracting from the pale elf's practiced poise....and well afforded praise (for Fenris).] But I doubt he'd have chosen those exact conditions were it not a byproduct of the magic used to forever bind us to his side. Some, yes— not all.
That was the deal, you see. Bleeding at death's door in desperation, peripheral vision already a muddy swath, and in he'd swoop like a shining beacon of salvation in the night. There to save us from certain oblivion with no other hope in sight, sweet and mercifully noble. [And what a familiar tale that is.] It's the fine print that gets left out. The fact that we'll be no cherished thing once we surrender to his....alterations, but an eternal slave with no body of our own. No freedom even in our own minds, for all he'd need do was demand we speak, and sanguine compulsion gladly did the rest.
It was his curse that granted those of us too unlucky or stupid to fall victim to his offer those myriad weaknesses, along with fangs. Claws. Eyes that shine with the truth of what we are.
Another leash, to make certain we could never leave unless he bade it.
[Threaded, that narrow little pause.]
....you're the only soul I've ever met that doesn't seem to care what I've become. I don't know what to make of that.