#beneaththeredmoon

SCREAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMS

“mm?” She hummed, only for a moment acknowledging his presence, perhaps a foul mood, but she always was in one since her resurrection. 

“enough so, pet.” Diana cooed, in as loving a manner as she could muster. It wasn’t the same as she would before her death, endearing, caring, loving. Not the same at all. She was anger, wrath, she wanted revenge, she’d taken back her home, but it still felt invaded.

    Well.

    “Hello, Thresh,” Zed whispers, bowing towards the spirit. “It is an honour to be in your presence.”

    He holds the bow a moment longer, then straightens his spine and links his hands behind his back. It is not the first time he has had a strange spirit visit him — such carnage oft attracts strange beings from both his realm and others — but that does not make the visit any more special.

    Those visits came from forgettable people, spirits he had never heard of before and had yet to hear of since. A visit from a demon of the blood moon, however, and one as prolific as this one—

    Zed thinks he may have felt a chill run down his spine, laughable as the notion may be.

    Around them, the shadows shift, reacting to Thresh’s impossible-to-ignore presence. He is terror incarnate, eyes glinting, offering only the barest hint of the horrors and accomplishments this spirit has seen.

    And here the spirit is, offering Zed praise. “Again,” he says, as though he has been watching Zed for some time.

    Has he?

                Cold— like bones without a home, that is the first touch that meets her skin, and the second is the gentleness of the same rough skin over her temples. The two held together like clouds, and she knows that skin almost as well as her own. The pause of breath that had caught in her throat finally slips free ( a left over fear, something her soft heart had been marred with, that had turned this cosmic born soul to a prison of flesh ), and a smile spreads over her lips. 

                A quiet laugh leaves her, soft and easy moving like a breeze, and her hands come to rest over his. “Won’t I?” she asks, mimicking his mischief with her own light-hearted tone. Her thumbs brush over his fingers as she lingers in that moment, willing her loneliness to leave her if only for this small time ( it is always so brief, for she will always find herself lost and alone ).

Thresh is always, always honored and delighted to be in the presence of himself, deified and eternal and beautiful; he clasps his hands together and sets his jaw tightly enough that the flames only escape from the notches in his skull. Of course his respect is reserved only for himself. Of course.

“Ah--!”

And then his jaw drops, far lower than usual, and after he manually reaches down and puts it back in place, he throws his arms into the air and lets loose his usual raucous, booming laughter for the hundredth time tonight.

“Sweet merciful divines--this is spectacular! Fun indeed, entertaining beyond measure and generous beyond imagination. How gracious you are.”

He could only hope to be as grand as this particular mirror. In his dreams, maybe!