(it was snatched in the night
like a firefly in mid flutter
gone as if it was never there
engage in the battle
to avenge and justify
the atrocity that stole
your brilliant flame
and gave you ice)
- By VaRuka
.Horror in Purity.
"Michael!" Selene exuberantly shrieks, voice brimming over with celestial loss and love for this one lycan, and then buckles down right beside his fallen figure.
*Not now, not now, not now,* she rants and raves, *not now when we promised to live! We fucking promised each other that, that . . . that we would live . . . live Michael, Michael!*
Instantly, his body starts to churn, lurching off the floor, and twitching to his sides, rocking, rocking, rocking, as the allergic lycan fails in the futile battle against the liquid silver dominating his veins. Exquisite jagged groans are yanked from his throat like a porcupine from its burrow, while his craggy breathing escalates into a blur of procession, dilated inhuman cobalt-blue eyes stare dead on at the dirty cracked ceiling, conveying his red-hot pain and monstrous wolf yelping within . . . and alas, the most horrid symptom of them all detonates--his once normal, barely visible blue veins begin to swell and earnestly strain under his skin, ghastly becoming coarse cords of throbbing silver ropes.
The atrocious silver in him burns like a fire he can not put out, that is burning away his soul from his body, persuading his insides a crispy black, eating away at his body as a Piranha to a piece of fresh juicy meat, and there is nothing, nothing what so ever, he can do about it.
She gazes on with bloody tears drowning her eyes, spilling over to softly strike Michael's sweaty cheek. *Selene . . . I spoke . . . to soon, way too, too . . . soon,* he incoherently babbles. Their eyes make contact once more, for the briefest moment in her long life, and then . . . his smoothly close, all his energy depleted, body slinking into a comatose state; so impenetrable, so quiet, and dying.
A tortured sob escapes Selene. This is her at her weakest point. All her hope is extinguished, that match once blazing bright within her confines is doused with a bucket of cold veracity. Picture the Great Wall of China suddenly, without a forebode, crumbling into insubstantial dust, and you will comprehend the physical and emotional drain she is enduring.
"Get away from him." Kraven harshly spits. "You, Selene, are coming with me." He bends down and leeches his grip upon her, digging his nails into her leather encased arm.
She sharply flings a heated glare onto Kraven, eyes vacant of their usual chocolate color, now totally consumed by a moon hued ring around her pupils and hissing like a rabid feline through her gleaming fangs.
"I can not wait to observe Viktor tear you into bloody shreds as if you were a piece of flimsy paper." She imbeds her words deep into his brain, so lathered are they with vexation, he can not help but take them to heart.
At the thought of Viktor, hysteria seizes his eyes, blood running cold, palms becoming clammy.
He shakes his head for clarity, reigning in his bloated fear of Viktor.
Kraven lashes back at Selene, jealously again manifesting, now larger though, but more thin because of the ludicrous circumstances. "All because of this lycan," He puts as much distaste as he can in that one word, referring to Michael's fainted figure, "you dare wish these curses upon me?! He has warped your mind, Selene. You should never fully trust a lycan, to do so labels you a guidable twit." He trembles with hardly bottled fury. "And you fancy him, too! Well, I fancy him dead."
His remorseless words invoke thoughts of the hatred-filled Selene that was alive not but a day or two ago. That Selene was also infected with the disease called hate, she was infected to the brink of where she figured she'd never, ever return. How wrong, how sincerely wrong. She ate, slept, and breathed hate for every lycan. It was as overt as her breath on a frigid winter day. But then, Michael had to come along, and ruin everything, giving everything.
Her stable belief system went poof, disturbing questions arose, plaguing feelings birthed and bloomed and shone so luminous that she could not hide in the dark from these factors anymore. Embracing it she found, she found, oh she found, the impossible possible. And now . . . Kraven with the experimental silver nitrate pistol had to just come along and blow it all to hell.
Ending his speech he sneers at Michael, then directs his psycho beady eyes to her:
"As every damn lycan should be."
She opens her mouth to retaliate, but is urgently hushed as Kraven snares the podium once more from having known a secret forever hidden, until now. This secret, artfully cloaked from the world and her sensitive ears, will affect Selene like a stake through her immortal heart, and it will force the little sane and steady part of her to die in a burst of orange flame.
"Ah, yes! You had invoked Viktor's name, for you it is basically like wailing daddy. Well, your daddy did an un-fatherly act one dark night in your neck of the woods . . . when you were but a mere human." She narrows her eyes, undiluted rage at him bringing up that nightmarish event thrashing inside her. Kraven crazily smirks; insanity his only friend. "He could never follow his own rules. No, no, no! No cattle blood for him. He yearned for pure human blood to quench his thirst . . . So, on that faithful night he swept through your family, gobbling them up as if you all were a special feast laid out in your beds for him, and only him."
She shrilly gasps.
"You--"
"Lie?" Kraven inquires, cutting her sentence off, eyes twinkling with delight at her apparent unease. "Why the hell would I need to when the truth is so much more excruciating, so much more horrifying? Selene, he murdered your family, found you, and decided to keep you as a substitute daughter, effectively replacing the one he fed to the sun." Selene falls into a void where her senses are fizzled to nothing, where her mind is slower than sliding molasses, and a feeling of a little girl lost in a tall forest is fusing with anger so hot that all she sees is red. "He did it, Selene! Not the lycans! Viktor himself causes you your nightmares and eternal loss!"
A beat. Selene inhales a shuddering breath, maintaining her fragile control . . . but for how long?
Kraven frantically runs a hand through his hair, smirk still firmly in place, and gestures to an exit, eyes empty of coherence. "Now, come to your new master. You belong with me. By my side."
Her control snaps.