It’s National Kissing Day, send ‘:*’ to give my muse a kiss.
She’s never seen him kill
before.
Has anyone?
It seems UNFATHOMABLE.
For as long as Natalia has known him, the Illusive Man had been an
untouchable spirit. Despite his claims, he always appeared
ABOVE the very thing he fought for: h u m a n i t y. How cruel
that must have been for him, had he felt anything at all in
those enigmatic bones.
Smoke from the gun in
hand oozes out like an old film reel that can’t catch up with
the movie. She hears him before she sees him move. A body lies
lifeless on the ground, a lump of clay that can no
longer be reshaped & remade. It’s a bundle of limbs that
will grow cold in time, when rigor mortis sets in & everything
stiffens. The eyes will become cloudy & she will know that
DEATH is final.
Nimble & quick
Jack saunters over towards his protégé.
He gestures with his pistol, broadcasting a rant about how there is
always a means to the end { she misheard }. The corpse
defected. Here, he taught her that human life is expendable
for great achievements. He beckons her to come closer in his office.
The room is a hollow tunnel, cavernous when his voice bounces off the
walls.
Dutifully, obediently,
Natalia steps forward & stands in front of him. The corpse
means nothing. They are no one. He calls her by name. Is she a dog or an artificial DAUGHTER? She bows her head &
he bestows her with a kiss on the crown of her head. A swift
little anointment. She feels the gun against her back
when he wraps an arm around her.
Dread pools on the bed
of her tongue & rises up from her gullet.
It’s National Kissing Day, send ‘:*’ to give my muse a kiss.
She’s a wicked girl with
more than STARS in her eyes. He sees something hungry laying
dormant within. Paranoia is an old friend that’s distanced
itself over the years, steadily creeping into his hollow heart &
SOUL { he gave it to her; he wanted a LEGACY }. She
catches him in the hallway, his gait belonging to a man who reaches
for the noose.
Dark circles stubbornly
cling beneath his electric blue eyes. One day, she thinks she’ll take
them from him – to judge whether or not they’re REAL or just
another trick for the great & powerful OZ. Subtly, his
shoulders twitch, a mere jostle that’s enough to give way to his
agitated state.
This hallway is dark &winding, stretching on into infinity until infinity becomes a
stairway. The station is dead, cherishing the silence, waiting to
give birth to something new. They stand on opposite sides &
play a game that neither should have engaged in.
Godlike aspirations
will destroy them both.
Here, she reminds
him who wins.
On the tips of her toes,
she reaches up not to Heaven, but to the impossible: for
space. Full of restraint, he kisses her on the corner of her
mouth. Chaste, borderline paternal. His heart hums like an engine
that splutters & coughs. He forgets to B-B-BREATHE!
It’s then that she makes her move. By force, she conquers. She
pushes & tests him. Plump lips ghost across his at
a languid pace & it’s night again when his eyes flutter
shut. He’s famished.
I confess,
We plucked the stars from the sky
And reveled in the ever darkening night.
I confess,
We swallowed the swollen sun
And claimed the moon for our own.
I confess,
We set fire to the sweeping seas
And spilled oceans through the trees.
I confess,
We killed the deities of ancient lore
And burned worlds for our savage love.
I confess,
We conquered the sprawling galaxies
And raised a cosmic renaissance.
I confess,
We named ourselves gods
And sought to make the universe anew.
I confess, I confess, I confess,
But I do not repent.
Her nails drag across his jawline as she gives him what he’s always wanted: a kiss. She holds his chin in a vice-like grip as she devours his hunger, the need that has been crawling in his chest & clawing at his lungs. Has he not been loyal since she fired the Crucible & ascended beyond anything he could imagine? Has he not served her with undying devotion? She made him perfect again, replaced all the old voices with new songs of ruin. Subjugation to her will was the Illusive Man’s freedom!
She claims him as she’s claimed the Universe, but not without reminding him of what he is to her. He is a judge, an executioner that upholds her holy word. One day, her Children will come for him; they are always watching him, hissing in the dark & drooling resin. Ah, but did he think she would stop time for him with her kiss? It ends & it leaves a bruise, her thumb tracing his lower lip as she moves to whisper in his ear, her abyssal voice digging into his mind like the sharp structures of bejeweled synthetic bone that grasp the base of his skull.
It’s National Kissing Day, send ‘:*’ to give my muse a kiss.
Jill Valentine.
He knows her. He
claims to know everyone. He acknowledges the lost doe-eyed
look before he sees her, a deer in the headlights with
the car crashing into her martyr’s frame. She looks for something to
believe in, but can’t find a goddamned thing. The only thing that
provides her solace is a crutch, a person who knows her
faults, her guilt, her REGRET.
Space isn’t holy; it’s
infinite. She wears Cerberus’ uniform, prepared to die for
another lost cause. Gone is the illusion of heroes & villains.
He’s as morally gray as they come { LIAR; LIAR; YOU’LL
SET THEM ALL ON FIRE }. She’s not Miranda; she’s not genetic
perfection. She’s imperfect. Scars litter her chest, a ghost
of the horrors she’s fucking SURVIVED.
The Illusive Man is responsible for
this – he called her to his private quarters, his office, his slice
of bonafied sanctuary. A galaxy unnamed swirls behind him.
Stars twinkle & fade & fizzle out into a realm
of nonexistence.
I NEED YOU CLEAN; I NEED YOU PURE.
{
coɴтrol. ♦ } — ❝Do
you remember
Christopher?❞
Her
pupils widen, akin to a feline. On earth, they would dismiss
her as another addict
wasting away on the city streets. This isn’t a case of P30 on Kijuju.
It’s greater; it’s less than. It’s indoctrination. She ignores the
buzzing
in her skull &
pretends
he’s a saint to believe in. Jack Harper snakes an arm around her
shoulders, raising his hand above her neck so that it cradles her
skull. When she says ’NO,
’
he remains victorious &
kisses
her on the brow. She shudders from how frigid
his lips are.
Jill
wishes it didn’t leave her numb,
her hair clinging limply
to her face.
He’s never spoken directly to the illusive man ( it’s usually shepard that deals with his mysterious ass ), but now seems to be a notable exception.
‘ I’m not sure what to say to you. I guess my first question should be… how did you acquire archangel’s file? ‘
{ coɴтrol. ♦ } — ❝Does that matter, Archangel?❞
He flashes a smile that rivals a sliver of moonlight:
ILLUMINATED. The Illusive Man’s head rolls to
the side, as though his neck cannot support
the rest of him.
❝Your second question should be: how can I help you?❞
