Remember
"Do you remember?" the voice asked him gently. He could feel the hand caress his cheek in a way he recalled more than he ever wanted to.
"No, I don't remember. And I don't care," he replied defiantly, brushing the hand away. As soon as it was removed from his face, however, he felt a strange longing for its presence again.
" I think you do, in fact, I know you do. You're just afraid to admit it, aren't you?" the voice pressed, and the arms flew around him in a gentle embrace before he could understand what was happening.
"No!" his body tensed at the touch, and he desperately tried to get free, but the hold on him was too great. No, maybe he was too weak to fend off this feeling that welled within him. The longing for the care and gentleness of a family, of people that loved him. He fell limp in the person's arms.
"There there. I know. It's going to be alright," the person said as they stroked his hair. "Life's not fair at all, is it? You'll get what you want one day soon. I promise."
Envy stormed out of the mansion with shaking fists hanging at his sides and sweat dripping down his brow. He found Lust and Gluttony leaning against the trees just outside the courtyard. Gluttony, the giant bowling ball of a beast he was, sat against the trunk of an old tree, looking hungry as always, finger stuck between his lips like an infant. Lust stood patiently against a fairly young specimen, arms crossed across her chest. Her eyes were shut and a contented smile painted itself across her lips. Hearing Envy's footsteps, she opened her eyes and turned her tantalizing gaze towards him.
"Hmmm, looks like Envy's done playing with Mommy," she said in a mocking
tone.
"Shut up," Envy spat, walking past them, into the woods. Lust and Gluttony followed close behind.
"She seems to call for you a lot more often lately," Lust commented, a thoughtful finger to her chin.
"Shut up," Envy repeated, acidly.
"I wonder why that is?" Lust continued, ignoring his demand.
"I said shut up!" he screamed. He turned to face her and glared at her, his amethyst eyes glowing with fire. She merely stared at him, amused.
The three walked the rest of the way in silence. Envy stayed far ahead of them while Lust and Gluttony walked behind in silence. Lust couldn't help but smirk at the anger of her cohort.
The next day was the same thing. That person sent for Envy again and when he received the news that morning, he punched the wall in frustration.
"Dammit!" he thundered. "I don't want to go see her again!"
"It's not like it's really your choice anyway," Lust droned. "When she asks to see us, we have to go see her and you know it. She did give us the life of the stones, after all."
Gritting his teeth, he stood up straight and walked out the door of their current hideout, towards the home of that person once again.
Every time he went to see that person, he had to wait for nearly an hour for her to prepare herself, or so she informed him. She would open the door, welcome him in with that same sly smile she always had when encountering him. Then she would seat him in the library with a book and tell him she would be down in a moment, claiming she had to, 'freshen up.' He would sit with his legs folded upon the chair and the book set upon his lap, and he would glare across the room, waiting.
This time was different. Today, she wore an elaborate gown and the same perfume she always wore, the one that made him angry, since it reminded him of a certain someone. Today, she welcomed him and brought him into the dining room, where she bid him sit. They had tea and cakes together, and although he didn't need food, he consumed what was placed in front of him. A nostalgic feeling washed over him then, and he sighed. She noticed his attitude and inquired about it, but he ignored her question, staring out the window instead.
When tea time was done, they went into the library, as they always did and he sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. The flames crackled with an almost tantalizing tone, as though it were mocking him. He glared into the orange glow, and barely noticed when she sat behind him and began to play with his hair. When he did notice, he grunted in annoyance.
"Oh, what's the matter?" she crooned close to his ear. "You used to love this."
"I hate it when you play with my hair," Envy said with a scowl.
"Can't a mother play with her own son's--,"
"I'm not your son!" he screamed, interrupting her and nearly standing from his spot on the floor.
"Yes, you are. You always have been and you always will be. You can't escape that," she said threateningly.
With that, Envy stood and stormed out of the mansion and into the woods, ignoring Lust's voice as she called out his name.
Envy wandered through the trees, weaving between trunks and low lying branches. Sometimes, he punched a tree in frustration, or mumbled under his breath. The rage that was now engulfing him seemed bigger than he could ever imagine; something he couldn't take control of.
"Dammit! I'm not her son. I'm not!" he screamed.
After a while, he came upon a lake and sat by it, gazing into the water. It lay calm and inert most of the time, but when a breeze whispered through the trees and into the clearing in which he sat, the water formed little ripples upon itself and followed the wind in a little game of 'Follow the Leader.' He gazed at his reflection, watching it as it became distorted when the little wind blew past him.
For more than four hundred years now, he had been doing everything that was expected of him, changing his appearance and lying to people so that that person could get what she wanted. Thinking about it now, he wondered why he continued to do so for so long. Why did he proceed to lie to so many people? He sighed and figured that it was because, in all truth, he wasn't just lying to the humans. He was also lying to himself. He let himself think that he was that person into whom he transformed. He allowed his mind to believe that he had their life, their family, their feelings. But that wasn't true. And whenever he returned to his chosen form, he was reminded of the reality of what he really was. He was only a tool. He recalled her words.
"You can't escape that."
No, maybe he couldn't escape that truth. He couldn't ignore that he was her son. He couldn't deny that, no. And he did remember. He remembered everything well. His childhood, his life as a young adult. His death. He recalled his rebirth and what happened after very clearly. He could tell the last four hundred or so years to a child in the utmost detail, and they would think it an elaborate fairy tale. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't escape the truth. He would always remember everything.