Cael was smiling at first, completely unaware of what had happened. When she admitted that he'd kissed her, his first reaction was to feel sheepish. He hadn't meant to do that, after all. He had no idea why he would do something so-- "You called me by your goddess's name," she said. His heart almost stopped. That was a secret he'd never told anyone. Dark, royal blue strands of fear began creeping into his eyes. Her laughter brought on humiliation, anger, and despair. "Of course I know that," he said, voice flat, almost menacing. "I know that very well." By this point his eyes had become completely monochromatic. Now longer did various shades of blues and greens dance within their lights. His eyes were impassive, angry, hurt. He felt the anger rise. Her laughter echoed in his ears, taunting him, demeaning him, challenging him. Before he realized what he was doing, he had a hand around her throat, pressing her up against a wall. "Don't you laugh at me," he hissed, his voice completely opposite of the jovial tones it once had. "Don't you ever laugh at me!" He was almost screaming now. A part of him wanted to stop, to apologize and go back. He didn't want to hurt anyone. But it was too late. A fire was burning in his veins and he couldn't stop it, couldn't control it. "Who would you prefer I had?" he asked. "You?" He shook her a little for emphasis. He loosened his hold a little, enough so she could breathe. "Yes, with your light hair and pale features, you almost resemble her." Cael was quieter this time. He sounded almost calm, as if he were discussing the weather. She's so fragile, he realized vaguely. I could burn her right now...release the fire from my fingertips and... He felt the res come from his hands, the gel-like substance sticking to her skin. I could ignite it right now, he thought. Burn her to ashes. Suddenly, he felt sick. His senses came back to him and he pulled his hand away. His eyes broke their solid shade and became a mess of swirling, pulsing colors once more. He stepped away from her, a look of fear and shame clear in his eyes. He bent over and retched, unable to stand what he almost did. Oh gods, what's happening to me? he wondered in agony. "I'm sorry," he rasped. He spit on the ground, the taste of sick still present in his mouth. "Please just go," he whispered. "Just go before I hurt you again." He put his head in his hands, his shoulders drooping. This was the very image of a man broken. |