𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐍 [18+] (#0.5)✔️

12: Wolf On The Hill

..Is not as hungry as the wolf climbing.

"Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man."- Homer, Odyssey

He watches the rhythmic fluctuation of her chest as she sleeps.

The clock strikes quarter past midnight, lights of London pour through the massive window. It casts a soft glow along the arch of her nose, her parted pink lips, and the length of her neck.

An estranged coldness seeps within his blood, all-consuming and revolting. A strand of hair falls over her forehead as she shifts, melting into the white covers.

He notices the small details about her. Her rigid neck, the small clench of her fists and the occasional unintelligible sounds that escape her lips.

She fights an invisible demon, he deduces. Her nightmares grapple her viciously, slithering in her mind.

Even in her sleep, she does not let her guard down.

Her mom was an honest farmer. She had been only eleven when she was killed in an accident.

He could see the fear sparkling in her eyes. The demon she suppresses and hides from surfacing.

It had been known by him long before she shared that small amount of information.

Distorted flesh, a body cut in half and a daughter who had lost her ability to speak from trauma.

Her stentorian screams had caused the tear in her vocal cord. They tried to make her speak but she had become silent forever.

Some years of bouncing between foster homes, being taken in as a maid by the Victors with the help of her only living relative, Lindy Cardeux, who later committed suicide.

Lunaire has not had an easy life. At times her eyes convey the extent of pain she suppresses and hides from. She may not be truthful, but her eyes are.

They are awfully dead. As if they had been for years.

An ocean of pale blue but cold as snow. Reflects what they take in from the surrounding, a mimicry. Like a moon.

He stands up, loading his revolver and tucking it at the back of his pocket, stealing another glance at her.

She is an enigma to him, just as he is to her. Like a game of hide and seek. A sick feeling of conquering over each other.

She is a delight, an urge to cause mayhem but also the moonlight that washes over the serene water of a river.

His monsters claw and snarl, a violent desire to rip her flesh and have a peek inside her heart. It consumes him, overpowering him but he remains still.

He wants to kiss her but also wants to put a knife between her heart, just to make her lifeless eyes shine with pain.

It lays in his blood, the primal compulsion of enjoying pain caused by depravity.