He presses the breath out of Enlighter’s chest like a cat holding down squirming prey. “Tell me, Enlighter: if you disdain me as much as you seem to, why did you stop me?”
Enlighter sneers harder to cover the way his lips purse. Half of the truth rises to his lips: “I want an interview.”
Nice leans down over him. Early evening shadows swallow his face; wild, animal-eyes reflect a feral blue as he stares down at Enlighter. His grip clenches tight, loosens, clenches again—spasmodic, crushing. Enlighter, feeling very much like a butterfly pinned to a board, struggles to breathe. “And why would I give you that? Why shouldn’t I just kill you now and finish what I came here to do?”
— “The Truth Behind Perfection” by Sulimo (on ao3)
Details, artist notes, etc under break:
