+ Fallacy, a 100themes Challenge +
Sarehptar
Theme: 23, Cat
Characters: Kharl, Gil
Pairing: Not-entirely-subtle Kharl/Gil.
Warnings: Purring and poison? POV is purposefully vague in places.
Need to Know Info: Updating a day early since I won't get the chance to update tomorrow.
Title Provider: Wake Up #37 (King Black Acid)
Wake Up Slowly Now, You're Dreaming.
This is the Good Life... Well, it's Better than Your Future.
He is trembling visibly; wracking tremors slide from his shoulders to his feet, making him seem smaller and fragile.
"Don't be afraid," the angel says, and the dim light of the room seems to steal away the words as soon as they cross his lips—or maybe they were never said at all. They are a promise, and a lie.
He whimpers in answer: a guttural, broken plea that might be words and might just be desperation. A single golden eye blinks impossibly slowly, lashes falling like the guillotine, and he cannot see. There is an ash-like tint to his iris, there is a familiar confusion in that slit and dilated pupil. Poison runs serpent-like through his veins, pounding in his demon blood, weakening every muscle in his body. He struggles for a moment (though he knows it is futile) to strike the angel, the monster. His clawed hand seems an impossible weight to lift—the blow fails, falls like a gentle touch, fingers tracing one white cheek, one ivory eyelid, one eye as distant as Heaven, as inviting as Hell.
The favor is returned hesitantly; behind the frozen hand that runs the length of his scar and knots in his hair there is no malice. There is no malice in the touch, and that is more frightening than any attack. He shivers again, feeling the press of delicate material against the naked V of his collar. It is finer cloth than he has ever felt, but it is suffocating, alluring, cruel, and white: as pure white as falling snow, as cold. His vision is clouded by the ash that keeps his body limp, but he can still feel the brittle smile and the broken heart. He does not understand, is afraid to try.
A moment ago, he almost remembers, he was monster, a cat. He had tried to rip the other man apart—had not even drawn blood. He had fallen again. He had been taken in again by welcome arms and that infuriating face, those empty smiling eyes. Ssh, the angel had murmured into his feline ear while the poison ran its course, it's all right. Those ice-cold, impossibly fragile hands buried in russet fur and remained there, inescapable, another cage. His cloudy mind focuses enough to wonder if he is human now or some horrible mix of the two: half-furred, half-broken.
"I only wanted you to love me," the angel whispers in his ear, and that tremulous voice is broken like a mirror, still reflecting everything on the outside and nothing from within. He shivers again, and is not sure if it is because of the cold or because there is something too cruel and too tragic here for him to understand. "Why do you hate me?" An alabaster hand dances the length of his jaw, and down his neck, and the touch burns. Something forcibly flutters inside his chest, and the sound that comes from him seems almost unreal. The purr is quiet, and uncontrollable; Gil hates the noise and cannot stop it. Cat and mouse games play back and forth and they both tremble with regret.
"I'm not… an animal," he whispers.
The angel's cloak swallows his words and dances, cold and white, across his lips.
Theme 24: No Time
"Alfeegi-sama," the blond rubbed his temple slowly, "I understood that you were here to oversee this operation. The last time I checked, the word see implies using your eyes, not your mouth."