[ He is a part of the Nest's whole. And he wills himself to remain at a distance. ]
There are other eyes than the ones that look upon the mirror.
[ There are others. Others who might see any of them in such a way. As they are connected to the Nest, to this sensation of wholeness, they all have so much more to lose. They exist internally and externally, at the same time. There are parts of them that are made of others, that cannot be controlled. That can be lost. And he despises it. Not because he would hate to lose them, but because they are vulnerabilities and weaknesses he did not ask to take on. They are him now, and he feels resentful towards them, more and more. He feels colder and more alone than he had before his own awakening.
And she is a briar patch, lovely and painful to look upon, be she of another Brood or not. Blossoms that hide hook-thorns, waiting to catch at the unaware passerby. A sharp tongue, sharper eyes. ]
My only other option is to drown -- [ he gestures, to everything at once, with gloved fingers. ] -- in all of this. I move forward, or I am lost to it, and I will not bend my knee at such meager challenge.
[ There is something intense in his words, something darkly regal and commanding. He is a man used to leadership, and the burden and the madness and the stress attributed to it. ]
no subject
There are other eyes than the ones that look upon the mirror.
[ There are others. Others who might see any of them in such a way. As they are connected to the Nest, to this sensation of wholeness, they all have so much more to lose. They exist internally and externally, at the same time. There are parts of them that are made of others, that cannot be controlled. That can be lost. And he despises it. Not because he would hate to lose them, but because they are vulnerabilities and weaknesses he did not ask to take on. They are him now, and he feels resentful towards them, more and more. He feels colder and more alone than he had before his own awakening.
And she is a briar patch, lovely and painful to look upon, be she of another Brood or not. Blossoms that hide hook-thorns, waiting to catch at the unaware passerby. A sharp tongue, sharper eyes. ]
My only other option is to drown -- [ he gestures, to everything at once, with gloved fingers. ] -- in all of this. I move forward, or I am lost to it, and I will not bend my knee at such meager challenge.
[ There is something intense in his words, something darkly regal and commanding. He is a man used to leadership, and the burden and the madness and the stress attributed to it. ]