dreaming of tasting it once again { lionel day 2 }

[k!ah]

 
lionel estrada

Mouses beak clicks frighteningly close to the soft vulnerable flesh of my neck. I don't know exactly when I had decided that the winged beast was not going to hurt me, but in moments like this, when I could practically feel the it pressed against my flesh as we make our way through the darkness of the mines, I become all to aware of the fact that with half a thought he could tear my throat out.

"Have you now sense of personal space?" I mutter, side eyeing the fowl as a rustle to my self has my hands tightening on the knife clutched with an iron grip. "I can smell your breath and its fucking disgusting- what is that? Fish?" My nose scutches up in pure disgust a moment before seeing pain causes me to hiss in pain. "I'm going to kill that mother fucker next time I see him," I mutter under my breath as my free hand moves to gently careers the broken flesh. There was an unsettling sense of dread and anticipation for seeing Lucky again.

I could still see his sneering face, hear his mocking words, that maybe have scared someone with any sense of self control to the point of shitting their pants. But I could also see the anger and annoys and pure frustration that had bubbled under the surface and the sense of unchecked satisfaction and delight that it had caused me. I had spent a lot of the night thinking about it, and had come to the conclusion that that sense had been fuelled by the sense of power I held over the boy.

Now you might be thinking what the fuck, Lionel? Power? He was straight up kicking your ass. And he was. They both were. And yet they had both failed to break me to their will which had been infuriating evidence by Xylia's fury and the bright red anger that had caused Lucky's face to turn red. And it was addicting, something that I had craved for a life time. Maybe not power in this destructive, most likely- definitely- get me killed sort of power. The power I had craved had come from the influenced gained by becoming someone to fear in a corporate world.

But I wasn't likely going to be able to taste that sort of power. And even though this power was reckless and dangerous...I wanted to feel it again. And I would. I was hungry, ravenous, and I wasn't one to let myself starve.

[k!ah]

 
lionel estrada

The darkness felt never ending, and with one shoulder gentle scraping across the mines wall, it takes all of my will power not to plough through the shadows with my hands raised in front of me feeling for threats. Every now and then the darkness would reveal the glimpse of an oil lamp, temporarily providing relief from what felt like a never ending trek into the depths of the earth. Each step, however, the iciness of the surface seemed to fade into something damp and heated, and I welcomed the feeling of the warm air against my frostbitten skin, even as the reminder at the entrance of the mines danced tauntingly in the back of my mind.

A sudden, loud creaking sound echoes through the cavern behind us and suddenly Mouses body is pressed against my own, shoving me hard against the rough walls of the shaft. "What the fuck, Mouse! Get the hell off me before I pluck and roast-" the words die on my lips as the sound grows until it rumbles throughout my body, my eyes flying over my shoulder to see one of the abandoned carts I had seen on entry fly passed us. "what the fuck?" I mumble as my eyes catch sight of a flash of white blonde hair and instantly I knew who was crazy enough to go barreling into unknown darkness for a thrill of fixing something that seemed impossible.

Felicity.

"Get off me you baboon," I growl at Mouse, shoving against the wall hard enough that my shoulder dug into the beast strong chest. Mouse doesn't move for a moment, growling in my ear for a heartbeat before pushing away from my body allowing air to fully enter my lungs as the pressure against my chest is released. "Mother hen," I mutter under my breath as Wren Jr. Peeks around one of Mouses large taloned feet, tracking the direction of the cart. "Come on you two, lest go see what Belcher is up to."

[k!ah]

 
lionel estrada

The cart had descended down a steep drop that had my stomach churning. In the darkness I stumbled like a new born foal, my broken leg, which I had strapped up at tied to a study but light smooth branch, made my movement even more unpredictable. Had I have had one drop of dignity left I might have felt embarrassed or even shame at knowing that the people back home, that he, would see me stumbling like a drunk.

But the thing is that once you have had yourself beaten to a pulp and been forced to crawl away from a fight... on your fucking hands and knees covered in spit blood and dirt... You kind of lose all rights to your dignity. And maybe I should have felt ashamed of the whole situation, but instead, even with not one shred of dignity still in tact, I had felt pride.

And powerful.

And foolish.

Oh well.

One hand pressed against the caverns wall, I pressed deeper into the darkness, following the rumbling sounds of the cart.