#m;amara

walking barefoot down the sidewalks, amara takes in the world that has drastically shifted since her captivity. is this what she was locked away to allow? and yet everywhere she looks... shadows. pain. false faith. an imbalance even in the beauty. but her brother... “this world is blind, following a path whose keeper has long since abandoned them.”

finding herself facing death, not the real one but a minion, amara feels.... indifferent. death showed up around the same time as her brother, but was more or less only needed on this planet to retrieve what god had created, send it some place. and yet, in a way, they are kin, they share a path of taking things away. an unknown. “you’ve been gripped by the darkness.” a statement, not a question. “do you fear it?”

“you --- you reek of heaven and yet... you’re not an angel. and you’re not dead. explain.”

“how is it that creatures like yourself can roam free when god wants to lock me away forever?”

“i’m giving you the chance to join me. live forever in peace, without pain.”

amara may still be new to walking amongst her brother’s creations, but power recognizes power. before she had been locked away, the world had not come into existence, and thus there were no other beings save her brother and herself, and for a time the four archangels. therefore, she has an inherent curiosity for these other beings, and while she does not actively seek them out as they are not her goal, should one be nearby, the darkness has been known to detour, if only to satiate her desire to know what has become in her time away. she is unfamiliar with names and pantheons, so she does not know how to greet the other, and perhaps her words serve as a hello as much as they do a warning. “i wonder, if my brother had known my imprisonment would lead to the existence of more than he and i, if he would have done it.”

dark tendrils are pulling the bars of the prison away with a clatter, her fury aside when she sees him, not his vessel but him because look at how grown up he is, look at how mature, it’s been so long -- and then she’s carefully reining herself in so not to cause more harm, is kneeling beside him, a hand reaching for his cheek with a gentleness that gives the demons who dare watch whiplash. “oh, what has my brother let come to you. anger at me for threatening his creations and yet he lets this happen to his children?” lips purse, a flicker of her darkness around them. “nothing will touch you again.”

there’s a strange mixture of comfort and pain in being so close to him -- the human that bore her mark, that held her key. the seal meant to keep her locked away tainted his skin, and in his skin the seal shattered. he is both familiar, a presence she welcomes, and something her darkness wishes to remove. gently. it would only be gentle. only for him. “dean,” the darkness greets, something one might call a soft smile on her lips. the name tastes bitter on her tongue, but destruction craves bitterness. “you are suffering. i can feel it.” whether through their connection or merely because darkness can recognize herself inside others. her tone is matter of fact, a promise when she adds, “you don’t have to be.”