Ergo656
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Summary
Truly, this is a shame. To endure the self-imposed exile, the cold of the grave and years of holding back the Hunt only to succumb to something so mundane as one-sided affection. And for whom? He often had kind, courageous, exemplary individuals seek his company, and yet in a cruel twist of fate he's fallen for this despicable shadow of a man instead. A murderer, a sinner, a blight upon the land, the progenitor of the very threat he made an oath to fight.
A man taken, never to be his. A man gone forever.
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Tonight, Rerir is once again faced with a familiar nightmare.
The creature is above him, cradled in flames, thighs like a vice around Rerir’s hips. Silky hair falls in dark waves as he bends down, until there's barely an inch between them.
“One day,” the nightmare says, “I will have your heart.”
Series
- Part 2 of Spooky Flins
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He can't get a clear line of sight just yet, but once the target is inside his penthouse, anywhere close to those huge windows, no amount of elite Sumerian hired guns will save the man. Rerir's long assignment is nearing its end. He trains the scope on the fifth and final floor and waits.
The windows right next to his target's apartment light up, a lithe silhouette moving leisurely behind the glass.
Ah. His personal demon is home.
Rerir has a hard time choosing between his job as a hitman and the desires of his heart.
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No, the real dignity, the real pride, he’s always thought, resides within the person. Is it even possible to tarnish it if one’s will is unbending? In his humble opinion, a true show of nobility, not just in title, but in spirit, would be to weather any indignity life throws at him with his head high, resolute and unyielding.
He wished to see how far this road would take him. And so, when a large gauntleted hand pushed him down to his knees, he submitted, although not without a fight.
Four times Rerir tortures the fae, and one time he's gentle.
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The hand holds onto his arm, unmoving.
It's rather small and nigh weightless. The hold isn't particularly tight, yet when Flins tries to dislodge the hand, it doesn't budge. The Lightkeeper sighs. What a nuisance.
“It is quite silly of the feared Sinner to play games.”
He gets no response.
Flins is lonely. Rerir lends a helping hand. Or, rather, multiple hands.
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