"It was his black wings that made him beautiful".
and it was a tempest there in her eyes, those blues that fluttered incessantly like eternal memories everywhere, all over my being, inside and outside of me. whatever I was feeling was as strong and with roots as deep as the very hatred I had for her.
hate is a very big and very violent word, but there was no other way to call that feeling I had for her, I told her that she was a murderer, that she had no other selfish purpose in life than to serve others as the weapon she had been conceived as, and I did not treat her any other way than as an object.
I called her a doll of death, I kicked her, insulted her and belittled her as if her life was really not even that important.
and it was a tempest there in her eyes, those blue ones that were stuck in mine and that strangely reminded me of my dear brother, that ironies of life, every word, every movement learned from Gilbert she gave them to me.
She was there in front of me dancing among the flowers that Gilbert had planted one by one to baptize the little girl, and he was no longer there, there was only me, the demon who had once found her, enslaved and tortured her, the one she had once called "master".
"I may not have a heart, but you are too innocent."
and maybe what made her so beautiful was not her looks, but her accomplishments and her love and her courage and the audacity to believe that no matter the darkness that surrounded her, she was light and that was what brought her back to life and what a disgrace to live in the flesh and like a slap in the face to have found her once again and that against all odds she was this beautiful human being.
It brought a stabbing pain to my chest and tore my insides with this strange and violent feeling, eating like a bacterium each of the cells of my body and spreading like a sweet poison.
when her eyes met mine, when her hands brushed mine whether it was an accident or not, my whole body was electrified and the lights inside me lit up like chandeliers to the point that I could hardly control my impulses.
every time I heard her voice calling my name she was feeding this pain even more strongly and I prayed that it would never stop, what a misfortune it was for me to desire her and hate her at the same time, and that was why i had to be cautious in knowing how to conceal her charms.
and sometimes I lost myself in the stories I pretended to read and invented others with her name, ones in which I erased my serene intolerance and got to know her again, to have done things right, not like that damned time.
"...and in the end also the stars choose destruction rather than life."
the throne door opened and Violet's silhouette, which was barely visible, entered the enemy's territory, the wolf's cage. but without care or fear of being devoured, she found me badly wounded, here is the balance of one of my most arduous battles.
the fallen captain, the fleet had been ambushed, we almost lost but for the allied fleet and my ship almost sunk, an enemy sword swung from behind almost took my life.
Violet sat on the edge of the bed and looked at me as if she had found a lost puppy in some back alley of the city, and her burning eyes, like waves and as intense as fire, made my heart burn.
I stretched out my arm so that my hand found hers and hid on her cheek until it got lost in her neck, I could see her moving her lips trying to say something, but I couldn't hear her. then I pressed my hand on her neck and smiled.
then I saw her cry for the first time in front of me, her body fell against my chest and I felt the strange bliss of at least that small instant having won.
"...and eventually, everything connects in the end."