Broken
Kirsty was broken. There was no doubt about it. Her not-so-beloved former husband had been the very last of those in her close circle to callously take a piece of her, and something within him swelled with anger at the very notion.
Just what was it with those Kirsty had claimed to be family? Indeed, he had wanted for her to unseal the schism for a third and final time, with her slimy spouse as bait, but...even he had to concede, it was all too cruel. Deep down, he had wanted to save Kirsty, protect her from Trevor's sinister machinations, and that had meant planting the idea of the box in his mind. It had worked, but at a terrible price.
The Favoured Son of Leviathan watched her as she stared out into nothing, silent tears streaming down her cheeks and mourning for her lost humanity.
It was one of those rare occasions where he was willed to her realm and was allowed to remain. She seemed so upset, and the human within him could not ignore the girl's pain.
He sat next to her stoically, showing no outward sign of emotion, but inside feeling awkwardness and helplessness in the pit of his belly as he watched her sob. Eventually, his leather-bound arm curled around her shaking shoulders and he pulled her close to him. A pathetic attempt at comfort from the Angel of Suffering if ever there was one.
Despite the agony she was in, Kirsty registered just how strange this embrace seemed, but she knew nothing of the battle within him. The humanity in him ached to take her pain away, whereas the Cenobite he was moulded into decades ago wanted nothing more than to revel in it, to know it. To discover what it was that made her weep.
He couldn't help it. The Prince held her close, lightly kissing the top of her head, his cold pale lips brushing against her brown and tangled corkscrew hair.
The human within him had won out, for once.
He brought her closer, longing to feel her in his arms. It was then the Prince realised, as Kirsty finally relaxed into his leather-scented embrace, they were both lonely, broken shadows.