Shigure knelt by the futon, watching his God sleep, blissfully unaware of his presence.
Moonlight and shadow played across her delicate features, and as he looked on, his face reflected a myriad of emotions -- devotion and love, certainly (none of the Juunishi could deny their Kami-sama that which she demanded), affection (in his own youth he had cradled her slender, curveless body with fraternal arms), but after a moment, his generous mouth pressed into a hard, uncomprimising line, showing neither love nor affection.
Twined around and running through love and devotion, there was the black thread of resentment and hate. He loved her beyond thought, and hated that he could find no reason to love her. She was brutal, selfish, violent...
Shigure's fingers slid through the soft locks of silky hair, trailing down the side of her face -- a gentle gesture, and one that did not wake her. Downward he continued, until his fingertips brushed her delicate collarbone. The Dog's hand rested there for a moment before slowly creeping upwards, fingers easily spanning across her neck.
Such a slender, pale, lovely neck. So easily broken.
For a moment, it seems as if the Dog could do it -- free himself, and the rest of them, by forsaking their God, by squeezing that delicate neck until the thundering pulse in her body died, taking with it limitless cruelty and abuse.
He wants to. His fingers twitch.
But then, with a sound that is too much like a sob, the Dog pulls his hand away as if burned.
Shikito...
Moonlight and shadow played across her delicate features, and as he looked on, his face reflected a myriad of emotions -- devotion and love, certainly (none of the Juunishi could deny their Kami-sama that which she demanded), affection (in his own youth he had cradled her slender, curveless body with fraternal arms), but after a moment, his generous mouth pressed into a hard, uncomprimising line, showing neither love nor affection.
Twined around and running through love and devotion, there was the black thread of resentment and hate. He loved her beyond thought, and hated that he could find no reason to love her. She was brutal, selfish, violent...
Shigure's fingers slid through the soft locks of silky hair, trailing down the side of her face -- a gentle gesture, and one that did not wake her. Downward he continued, until his fingertips brushed her delicate collarbone. The Dog's hand rested there for a moment before slowly creeping upwards, fingers easily spanning across her neck.
Such a slender, pale, lovely neck. So easily broken.
For a moment, it seems as if the Dog could do it -- free himself, and the rest of them, by forsaking their God, by squeezing that delicate neck until the thundering pulse in her body died, taking with it limitless cruelty and abuse.
He wants to. His fingers twitch.
But then, with a sound that is too much like a sob, the Dog pulls his hand away as if burned.
He can't, damn it all -- he can't.
He loves her too much.