06-17-2015, 06:04 PM
"Fool." Behemoth muttered to himself as he had set her down, but whether he denied it or not, she had made the right choice.
His shimmering eyes glazed with agitation as his stare hung on the silver flint that was the gun.
"What a useless toy." Despite how it had played a pivotal role in the girl's acceptance. He really had no use for it now, and yet he hadn't thrown it into the water with a plop, rather instead, he set it down in one of the piles of gold. If things turned out unsuccessful, he still had a tool and wouldn't have to get his hands dirty.
Narrowed eyes slid down to his muddled pale knuckles. Gray skin clung to his bones in tight shrivels as he moved his fingers around before settling them into a balled fist. The fine muscles drew lines across his arms and protruding from his suit jacket, while the movement only accentuated the growing depth of his wrinkles.
His clenched fist, it had once been much larger, but now, having weakly endured the test of time, his brittle bones had thinned and withered nearly to dust. Soon he would be no more. Aging, he abided. Torture, proved to be one of the merest sufferings of life. However his most recent adversary was neither as kind as aging, nor as inimical as torture.
The resolute hellion had come too far to allow such a simple thing as venom in his bloodstream tear him apart.
...
The predator's slinking mind plunged through the darkness of her transient memories. Behemoth crinkled his nose in distaste as they swarmed before attaching to his psychic form in heavy clumps. The balls of sticky black molded with the color of his suit overcoat before quickly shredding the fabric to mismatched patches. His skin was splattered and tainted with the same obsidian gleam as Behemoth quickly found the power of her thoughts weighing down his motion.
Call it, the mind's defense. Quizzical, as he always considered it, how the mind defended trespassers who delved in for its secrets, with secrets. Effortlessly, the saboteur streamed through the moments that had composed her life into a sweet perfection.
Glimpses of smiles flickered in all directions before morphing into stilled shots and soon with more time spent out of adolescence, full streams of light created an overpowering flow for his senses.
A fair-haired man with a wide face, smiled and placed a hand in Millie's, who returned the clasp and reached out, exposing her thin wrist and narrow fingers.
Soon, Behemoth passed by a fuzzy puppy who had oversized tufts around his ears and eyes, he was rolling on the ground and affectionately getting his belly rubbed. The fair-haired man's face reappeared and jerked a longing within him. A name, formed in Millie's lips, one that carried both pain and pleasure. His image faded but the warming effect lasted longer than he could tell in the dwellings of the dark.
More tenderly smiling people, more compassionate eyes and concerned faced, more... Life.
Flickering with a flash of familiar fair hair, Behemoth grimaced at the same mundane image. A man who choked on his words, begging desperately to not be exiled from her life again. And Behemoth felt her heartache. With a painful narrow of his eyes, Behemoth swatted away the enveloping emotions as though they were pestering flies.
It was all... So sentimental. All of her memories were wordless, and yet, he now knew it all.
He was repulsed by the transparency of some of the joyful images, and the disgust sent acid to his throat. It was sickening. Women always seemed to feel in a completely different way than men. So complexly simple, either unloved or undeniably captivated. Very relatable to impressionist paintings. Each memory a droplet of color, touched together to another perfect moment in life, only to create a well blended speckle of meshed color. Much like pixels now - which he favored - as they were less romantic and had a more absolute shape.
Inopportune associations touched his mind, as he associated this girl with a painting of a park. Ever so simple, and yet, he didn't wish to take his eyes away. The last wisps of color drifted away as he drew near a strange looking door. Everyone he had ever crept within had a different one, he floated near it and knew better than to knock. "Relinquish the right to your mind and you shall be spared by its own undoing." He commanded, yet remained unsure of the weakling girl could hear, or if his voice would summon that of the shade.
...
Behemoth excreted a heavy and unsatisfactory sigh, "I'm getting much too old for this." Following his words was an excessive bought of coughing, which seemed to have no purpose, for people's minds had no reason to explode with human necessities.
"Tactics, tactics..." He reminded himself with a spin before the flood of ideas ruptured in a touched pinprick of his mind. With his life on the line, and his mind connected only to Millie's body by a single knobby hand on for forehead, Behemoth would be cautious about making mistakes. However, even the mind-reader was far from flawless. The manipulator wanted a challenge, so he beckoned fate with his own voice.
"Alright Shade, come out and play."
His shimmering eyes glazed with agitation as his stare hung on the silver flint that was the gun.
"What a useless toy." Despite how it had played a pivotal role in the girl's acceptance. He really had no use for it now, and yet he hadn't thrown it into the water with a plop, rather instead, he set it down in one of the piles of gold. If things turned out unsuccessful, he still had a tool and wouldn't have to get his hands dirty.
Narrowed eyes slid down to his muddled pale knuckles. Gray skin clung to his bones in tight shrivels as he moved his fingers around before settling them into a balled fist. The fine muscles drew lines across his arms and protruding from his suit jacket, while the movement only accentuated the growing depth of his wrinkles.
His clenched fist, it had once been much larger, but now, having weakly endured the test of time, his brittle bones had thinned and withered nearly to dust. Soon he would be no more. Aging, he abided. Torture, proved to be one of the merest sufferings of life. However his most recent adversary was neither as kind as aging, nor as inimical as torture.
The resolute hellion had come too far to allow such a simple thing as venom in his bloodstream tear him apart.
...
The predator's slinking mind plunged through the darkness of her transient memories. Behemoth crinkled his nose in distaste as they swarmed before attaching to his psychic form in heavy clumps. The balls of sticky black molded with the color of his suit overcoat before quickly shredding the fabric to mismatched patches. His skin was splattered and tainted with the same obsidian gleam as Behemoth quickly found the power of her thoughts weighing down his motion.
Call it, the mind's defense. Quizzical, as he always considered it, how the mind defended trespassers who delved in for its secrets, with secrets. Effortlessly, the saboteur streamed through the moments that had composed her life into a sweet perfection.
Glimpses of smiles flickered in all directions before morphing into stilled shots and soon with more time spent out of adolescence, full streams of light created an overpowering flow for his senses.
A fair-haired man with a wide face, smiled and placed a hand in Millie's, who returned the clasp and reached out, exposing her thin wrist and narrow fingers.
Soon, Behemoth passed by a fuzzy puppy who had oversized tufts around his ears and eyes, he was rolling on the ground and affectionately getting his belly rubbed. The fair-haired man's face reappeared and jerked a longing within him. A name, formed in Millie's lips, one that carried both pain and pleasure. His image faded but the warming effect lasted longer than he could tell in the dwellings of the dark.
More tenderly smiling people, more compassionate eyes and concerned faced, more... Life.
Flickering with a flash of familiar fair hair, Behemoth grimaced at the same mundane image. A man who choked on his words, begging desperately to not be exiled from her life again. And Behemoth felt her heartache. With a painful narrow of his eyes, Behemoth swatted away the enveloping emotions as though they were pestering flies.
It was all... So sentimental. All of her memories were wordless, and yet, he now knew it all.
He was repulsed by the transparency of some of the joyful images, and the disgust sent acid to his throat. It was sickening. Women always seemed to feel in a completely different way than men. So complexly simple, either unloved or undeniably captivated. Very relatable to impressionist paintings. Each memory a droplet of color, touched together to another perfect moment in life, only to create a well blended speckle of meshed color. Much like pixels now - which he favored - as they were less romantic and had a more absolute shape.
Inopportune associations touched his mind, as he associated this girl with a painting of a park. Ever so simple, and yet, he didn't wish to take his eyes away. The last wisps of color drifted away as he drew near a strange looking door. Everyone he had ever crept within had a different one, he floated near it and knew better than to knock. "Relinquish the right to your mind and you shall be spared by its own undoing." He commanded, yet remained unsure of the weakling girl could hear, or if his voice would summon that of the shade.
...
Behemoth excreted a heavy and unsatisfactory sigh, "I'm getting much too old for this." Following his words was an excessive bought of coughing, which seemed to have no purpose, for people's minds had no reason to explode with human necessities.
"Tactics, tactics..." He reminded himself with a spin before the flood of ideas ruptured in a touched pinprick of his mind. With his life on the line, and his mind connected only to Millie's body by a single knobby hand on for forehead, Behemoth would be cautious about making mistakes. However, even the mind-reader was far from flawless. The manipulator wanted a challenge, so he beckoned fate with his own voice.
"Alright Shade, come out and play."
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus