Believe in Me

Overpowered (1)

A note I wanted to add.. Cloti's name is pronounced Cloh-tee. I'm not sure if I like it much or not, but when I added it to the story I liked how it fit. If I find a better name for him I might go through and change it up. Either way, thank you for reading and have a good night.

A gentle, warm hand brushed gently through his soft bangs, but the boy felt little comfort from the touch. Despite the small gain of heat the fingers gave him, he hardly felt them in the chilly, dark room. He hardly cared either. No matter how calm the small sign of comfort could’ve possibly made him, he refused to accept any form of pleasure from the older woman standing above him. Despite the cold and despite the dark he could still see her clearly, sense her there with the smell of fresh flowers radiating softly from her, the smooth texture of her skin and dress, the silky hair that flowed gracefully down her chest and back… He was grateful that he hadn’t yet acquired the ability to feel lust, sure it was coming soon with the age he looked to be, but the wind spirit was still a kid. She couldn’t charm him… not yet. But without that aura of radiating beauty, without the passion flowing from her that drew anyone and nearly everyone in mindlessly… all he could see was a snake, a vicious cobra with the most beautiful scales and the deadliest poison. No matter how her gentle violet eyes seemed to shimmer when she came into contact with any light source at all, no matter how her steps were with elegance that no other woman could perfectly master… she was a monster… and no matter how beautiful she was on the outside, under that cover she was an ugly witch.

“Calm down, sweetie, I’m not going to hurt you,” she mused, her voice soft and smooth but easily read as lies. The child glared up with an anger burning in his extremely light eyes, the woman’s soft but no doubt amused smirk just barely visible in the dark he was still adjusting to. His head was spinning with a stormy cloud of anxiety. Was he alone? Knowing the situation, the wind spirit highly doubted Pitch would leave the pole without dragging Jack along, and Chaos was angry at Ilia… From what he knew, Ilia and Grey had been missing from the pole… A deep, gut wrenching thought occurred to him; what if Chaos killed her? Knowing him, there was little doubt that he would hesitate to do so if any reason at all came to his mind… She probably had Grey to protect her, but with that monster… thing… in Chaos’ control, Grey was of little help. He was scared… Despite how little he knew the girl, the light in her eyes brought a smile to his face for the first time in a long while, and she was the first to have asked him to come home with them. She was innocent, pure, and if she had been killed… he hardly could wrap his head around it. Where was Jack as well..? The last thing he remembered was his close friend kneeling down to Pitch, the heavy guilt in his heart as he saw the winter spirit giving up to try and help him. He remembered the pain easily, how his lungs felt like they were exploding, how tight his chest was and how his throat and mind blurred with a heavy throbbing ache, how the rest of him was weak, suffering slowly until the pain finally eased… but the worst pain of all was seeing his friend, no, friends… actually bowing to help him. It was a bitter sweet feeling. They did that, went to those extremes just for him… they cared that much... but then they ruined themselves for him as well, just gave up their pride and the spirit of determination and expected victory… and now he was here. He was left confused, scared of the fates of not just those two but every one of the becoming family he had finally been accepted into. They could all be dead, killed because they wouldn’t attack Pitch with him as a temporary hostage… killed because of him. Viola no doubt noticed the fury fading from his eyes as he bowed his head, closing his eyes to keep any tears from even considering forming. Her fingers were still gently resting in his hair but his body, his soul, temporarily went numb… he hardly felt it and didn’t care anymore if she was there. If they had died because of him then he would take any sort of torture he could get with a thank you running freely from his mouth. He missed Jack… he missed everyone, even if they might’ve not missed him. If they had been hurt, if any one of them had died or gone through pain, then maybe it was worthy that he was where he was in front of who he was sitting before. Maybe he deserved it…