Title: Salvation by His Hand
Notes: Chapter two! Whee. ^^ I still suck. I might mention, for anyone who's never read my stories (insert shameless pleas for reviews here) that I'm inclined towards short chapters. So... enjoy! ^^ I'll try to write more soon, but I have 50 pages of History to read, a dialogue in French to memorize, and god knows how much Math to do before tomorrow. So... yeah. . I shouldn't have done this. Why did I? Because the muse is speaking. And he wun shut up.
The sound of my voice strikes a nerve within him; it is writ across his face. The fool (though such a fool, I'd die to be,) has spent so long amongst them, he seems almost like unto them. But never could one mistake him for something so rough as a human, if their eyes be open; he moves with the power and grace his Brother commands, though he tries to hide it. Why? I cannot fathom his reasons- how can he deny my Master's words? He turns his face from the truth, and tries to pretend he can change things. In the end, all he changes is himself, becoming more like unto them. Even the Master calls him a fool. I think him such, though I should not. But why does the butterfly seek to be the spider? It is a mystery.
I feel a shiver, an echo of his presence, through myself. As though, with proximity, the limb awakens. And yet I am still its master; I am the outlaw's master.
"I'm certain you know why I've come, so we may as well dispense with the usual pleasantries."
A smile curls over my lips as he turns to face me, his eyes ablaze for a moment with anger- a pure, divine fury, as great as His own. But behind this there is a weaker emotion, dirty and corrupt. Very human. It makes me almost sick to sense it in him. Fear. Absolute, cold terror, as jagged and uncontrolled as broken glass; and, like broken glass, as likely to hurt the one who wields it as the one at whom it's aimed. Such a thing should never belong to one of his kind.
And yet, I cannot deny the thrill of it. For it is I he fears. As much as he seeks their company, forswearing what he deserves to protect the spiders from His truth, our misguided butterfly remembers still that the spider bites. And it has a venom all its own.
He fears me more than anyone else ever has. He fears me, I think, more than he has ever feared anything. The magnitude, such a terror... I am more than a bit drunk on my own power as I await his answer.