He entered into Wrath's house, searching for him desperately. "Wrath!! Wrath!" He shout while opening doors, looking around. PLEASE BE HERE, PLEASE DON'T GO TO HIM. PLEASE BE HERE.
It’s a magnetic pull, a siren song, a calling. It’s not something he can control, his body reacts before he can think about it, his very soul aching, demanding him to find the source of this delicious energy, this anger that is just starting to boil, a volcano in the peek of an explosion.
Rage like this is rare. It burns bright, like a beacon, harsh around the edges, making his eyes turn a deep shade of red before he can even think about reasons or wonder where the rage is coming from. He just wants. Wants. Wants.
He stands at the side of a God, all raw energy and aching to hurt, moving in perfect synchrony with this being, wanting blood, the blood of this other God. Break bones, tear flesh apart, rip his heart out, destroy it. He doesn’t belong to you. You don’t know him. HE IS NOT YOURS TO TAKE. YOU RUIN EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING.
This ache in his bones, this hurt in his soul, this pain...It feels vaguely familiar and it only makes the anger burn with more force. He can relate to this being, he understands this anger, he feels....He sometimes feels this way. This resentment, this need to make someone pay for things that were lost, for the days he could not have. Someone stealing what it’s rightfully yours. IT’S YOUR FAULT. WE’LL MAKE YOU PAY, WE’LL MAKE YOU BLEED, WE’LL TEACH YOU THAT YOU ARE NOTHING.
The taste of blood in his mouth, an ichor that makes him think of home, of old days in the sun, of things that never were. It aches, burns in his tongue and it only makes him feel worse, an anger that makes him want to cry and scream. The source of the ache is right there, if they squeeze hard enough he’ll be gone. The flame will be out and things would go back to what they used to be....Somehow, some way. At least Pilli would go back to him.....Him? Pilli? Wrath’s thoughts are mixed, feelings intertwined with this other creature. He isn’t sure where he ends and where the other starts. He feels long, feathers on his skin, fangs on his mouth, an ancient fire in his heart.
I NEED PILLI. YOU DON’T DESERVE HIM. GO AWAY! YOU RUIN EVERYTHING! YOU’VE ALREADY TAKEN SO MUCH!! LEAVE!! Wrath can’t remember when this started, it feels as if he was born in the middle of this chaos. Days or years, weeks or months, seconds or minutes. Time means nothing to him, lost in the fighting, drowning in something divine, forgetting who he is for a moment because it’s too much, he has never been part of a God like this, for this long. Will he ever be more than this? If the fighting ends, will he disappear?
He can’t move and someone is talking to him in a soft voice. He wants to snarl again, he wants to bite and hurt this new creature but....His body is heavy. Heavy like led, but it also feels like he is made of water. How funny. He feels like he is melting, falling. He is no longer meshed with someone else and he remembers: My name is Wrath.
He feels cold and light-headed. His mouth tastes like ichor and he laughs. He laughs and laughs until he is crying, he doesn’t know how to feel any more. He doesn’t know what he did. He is just here, he is just here. Where? Home. The floor of his bedroom. How? Wasn’t he on another planet? Yes. In space, making stars die, his feathers fluttering because he needed to protect Pilli. Pilli? He loves him. Who is he? Someone beautiful, someone sweet, like honey and chocolate and flowers. Home. Where is home? Shattered rock, covered in moss. Tourist’s attractions. No....That’s not....Not his....
Wrath!! Wrath! Yes, that’s him. That’s his name. He doesn’t have fangs or feathers or ancient divinity like gold on his veins. He doesn’t know a Pilli and he doesn’t want to protect him, he doesn’t love him and he doesn’t need to kill Adonai.
Adonai? He knows that name. That name is special. Special why? Adonai is bad, he destroys and takes and ruins....No! No. Adonai is good, he is....Hurt. Fangs on his skin, squeeze him so tight, destroy him, break him. NO! NO! NO! He loves Adonai, he loves him. Where is he? Where..?
Wrath gets up, dizzy and aching, making his way to the door, frantic. There’s ichor in his mouth, the blood of God in his hands and it feels so wrong. He made a mistake, he made a mistake, he made a mistake.
Where is papa? He needs papa. Where is he? He is hurt, Wrath hurt him. Wrath hurt him but it was an accident. He has to say sorry, he has to explain. He didn’t meant to. He really didn’t meant to. It was an accident.
His knees give in under his weight and Wrath stays there, frozen in place, breathing fast, panic on the pit of his stomach. The world is spinning, tilting to one side and the other, as if gravity is playing tricks on him. He wants to throw up, he wants to cry, he wants to go to Heaven and find his dad. He wants to say sorry.
He screams.
