Peripatetic Ataraxia
…
Ghosts.
Frigid fliers; phantoms of reason. Cold spirits communicating only through sounds. Whipping. Screeching. Suffocating. Careening through the air like chaotic devils – none would have their fill. Raw, flammable power. None would bear their own will – always searching for something they believed they deserved. That was him…
A ghost.
His bloodstream swallowed their fallacy; his anger ignited their wails. Flashing. Scorching. Choking. Icy silver skin, frozen metal laser. He waited for that reason so oft associated with his metallic temper. He waited; he waited; he slipped.
A ghost.
…
Not a very long chapter compared to its predecessors, but I kind of like it. The title came to mind because I'd recently caught wind of the word 'peripatetic' and was in need of an opportunity to utilize it, whereas 'ataraxia' has a much less glamorous backstory – it was the word of the day on and just happened to have a definition that suited my needs. Nonetheless, I'm quite satisfied with this chapter.
The character, in case you haven't figured it out, is Archie, and I decided to compare him and his whip to ghosts and their stereotypical mythology.
Thank you very much to the reviewers of the previous chapter: HoneyGoddess5, Sorceress of the Nile, and Tinian I'att.