Title: The taste of his trepidation
Prompt: Green Latern (2011) for TQLFC
A/N: Parallax feeds on fear in the movie, so... this came to me. Also, the spell decolatrix is made up, so, yeah. And, clearly, this is an AU.
December 3, 1896
The ether is bitter; it bites at my raw flesh, ichor is pouring from my thick veins. I am convulsing; the mire is sleek against my back, raucous shrills of the salmon fleshed encompassing me. Deluge is melodic across the clear grey of the waters; the fulmination is playing its tale of sorrow. I can hear the roots whine as feet caress their molasses bark, and I can feel the sinews of warm skin brush across my cheek. I am being carried, away from the ale of living souls, away from those whose blood tastes like mine.
I can see the ebony veneer of the night sky and the watery eyes of swimming liquid diamond. The eyes are sweet but not as sweet as silver lips of green beards. He stalks into the hands of melting candles, the flames licking at the uncanny lavender hearts on his sleeve. I am weak, I squirm and wheeze, my throat is arid, and he hushes me. His cry is sharp; I can taste the blood rushing to my ears. He is running, now, his breath ragged, his brawn a glutinous syrup.
He falls, and our bodies taste the warm liquid beneath us. I let myself drift into the flushed sea, and I rest against the white porcelain as he resurfaces, my hair of plants roots webbed across the pearl surface. He stares at the blemishes coloured beyond my sterling flesh, and he reaches his wan digits into the water, his hand tentative. He is quivering as I flash my canines decayed in plaque, but his fingers kiss my contusions, rubbing the sore flesh. I swallow a shriek, and he flinches but doesn't pull away, he is placid. But the fear that swims in his eyes is undeniable.
He pulls out the root of a tree's arm, and I snarl as he draws closer, the end of the root pointing at my neck. "It's okay," his voice is shrill as he speaks. "I'm not going to hurt you." I bare my teeth as the branch blossoms a ray of light, and he smiles, "Anapneo."
I can feel the brittle cracks of my throat mend, and I touch the base of my throat, digging my nails into the silver brawn. His eyes of a summer's sea darken under the tapers glare, and the hand that grazes my cooper bruises sweeps across my tail. I recoil into my stomach and snap my jaw at his meaty fingers, he stills and pulls his hand from the water. He moves the root in the shape of a half moon, mumbling. "Decolatrix!"
The bittersweet contusions kissed across my skin evanesce into the surrounding grey, the dull ache burning into the sweet water. The shrieking human has healed, the barren sea tells me, the human is safe. I stare at him as I uncoil, and his lips twitch. "See," he says, but I don't understand, his language is a barrel of grotesque shrieks. "Now, please be quiet; you'll be heard. I'll be back in the morning, okay? I promise." He melts into the darkness, and I am left alone.
I sing my saturnine blues, circling the waters, the sea is nude. The tangles of seaweed are painted into the ceramic tiles, fish of sharp fangs nestled within, and the merfolk dance across the algae rocks. I trace their acrylic hair, it is cold, and I scratch out their faces with a screech. They are not mine; I am alone, this is not my water. I tear at the walls, watching as strips of paint dematerialize.
I am trapped.
December 6, 1896
I am greedy. I stare at the red meat hanging from his greasy lips, he is speaking, but I ignore his screeches. He wipes his lips with his sleeve, and I lick mine, desire churning in my stomach. I push my head above the water and grip his elbows, and he blinks, muddled. "Are you okay?" he says, and I poke his tender flesh with my talons.
"Meat," I say, and he cowers, his arms pulling from my grasp. The brawn scatters across the water, and I flick my tail at him as I sink my teeth into the fatty fare. He kneels and watches me, studying. "Can you understand me?"
I turn from him, running the juices of the brawn across my lips. He walks around the border of the nude sea; he is short. His feet are fat and covered in wild red hair, and his face is flushed a sheen white. He is unslightly, he walks on toes, and he drowns in mother's tears. "I'm Albus, can you say Al - bus."
I snarl and scratch the air; he is loud. Humans are disgusting; they speak the tongue of a deranged kelpie. He frowns, and I mimic him, pushing my head above the water. He runs his hands through his hair, sighing. "Al - bus, come on, say it."
I flick my tail at him, hissing.
I can smell his fear as he runs out of the room. It was delicious.
December 10, 1896
He is persistent, waving his arms, screeching out the same thing over and over. He has been generous, leaving meat for me to sink my teeth into, but I still watched him with cautious eyes. He wasn't to be trusted, and I tasted the fear that rolled across his frame. He was shaking as he stood in front of me, his hands wringing his robes. "You can't stay here," he says, and I swim closer to the edge, my nails pressed against his dragonskin boots.
He shook his foot, kicking off my hand, and I shrieked at him. He gulped, shaking his head. "Listen to me, please!"
I blink at him, and he frowns, kneeling. "I need you to cooperate with me. Can you — you can do that, can't you?"
His pale skin is flushed, and I bare my canines at him as he leans closer, reaching a trembling hand towards me. His fingertips graze my cheek, and I flinch, but I don't pull away. He is calm, but I can taste the layers of unease and fear, and I lick my lips. I grip his hand in mine, and I pull him into the bare sea, his frame flush against mine. He chokes, and I can feel his ribs, he is thin.
The fear in his watery, blue eyes amuses me, and I lean my face closer to his.
He tries to scream, but I cover his lips with mine, the taste of his quivering trepidation satisfying the hunger deep within in me. I pull away from him, and he coughs, hacking up his guts.
"Albus," I say, and he chokes once again.
His fear is delicious.