``this| T I M E |it's: d.i.f.f.e.r.e.n.t // nayva

Pain was the only thing he knew-- the only thing he could understand as it lashed him down and held him still. Without pain he would float away, lose sight of the ground beneath his paws. Was it any wonder that in the midst of his fevered terrors, he resorted to violence, that he lashed out at the walls, crushed his body against the unyielding metals and stones that mocked his attempts. He would break himself before he would give in. He would destroy every bone, grind every fractured, splintered piece of himself into dust until there was only a corpse, that bled out into death. He would no longer be useless-- he would be unreachable. His ears would no longer curl forward, aching for the voice that broke his heart over and over and over. His heart would no longer pound for the delirious dreams of comfort under strength and dominance. He soul would no longer quiver on the edge of the darkness, like a flickering light about to go out as it was eaten by darkness. There would be no life left, just the darkness, the unyielding, untouched dark.

--- and he would be at peace.

So he destroyed himself, worked up into a frenzy he could no longer suppress. Demons snickered as they ran their fingers through his fur, as he saw the world in a swaying vision of red. Blood had gushed forward near his forehead, discoloring his already ruptured world. Hunger no longer mattered. Thirst no longer mattered. Only the demons, their faces pinched and shrieking, rubbing their skeletal bodies along the length of his, their tails curling around his throat and choking the breath from him.

He panted, this pitiful creature. Panted, ached, bled. Alone in the world, like so much trash, not even worth the hungry maw of his night time neighbors, he would be something that would rot and add his stench to the darkness in the sewers. Would he be another story told to young kittens? Do not go into the sewers. Not only do monsters lurk, but a demon lingers half alive, half dead, but most certainly still mad, his screeching bouncing off of the walls. Would he be a story to frighten young cubs? He would even be a story? He mumbled, but his tongue was thick in his mouth, his thoughts slurring to red, to bright flames so that even his words slushed around in a nameless, wordless fashion. Strong paws touched him, held him, anchored him to the ground, but even the reality had blurred in his fever.

His one eye opened, pupils as wide as plates as he stared at the Goddess, but did not see her -- no, no, there was no Goddess here. No help. No warmth to bank the frenzied fires that burned up inside of him. There was nothing here but the demons and the one female he could not get rid of.

She held him down now, that glorious white pelt feeling real against his flesh-- transforming Nayva into something terrifying and wonderful. Had she become real? Had she somehow managed to become alive even after these years of death and haunting? He growled, though there was no threat to it -- what could he ever really do to her that she hadn't already had done? He had hurt her. He had killed her. The whiteness of that pelt, glorified by beautiful slashes of rosettes descended, the perfume of his memory changing the world as she nuzzled his face. Sickness made his heart hurt.

She had not wanted him then -- why this torment? Why this terror? She was so close, so close -- closer than she had ever been in life, gentler than she had ever been, even after death. Her voice was a soundless thing, crooning over the raging tides of his frenzy, cooling the hatred with the one thing she had never done. She had never cared, not even enough to name him. He had never felt sadness before, but it surged up as if her touch had struck a well, and it's water was rushing up toward the surface and spilling outward. His forelegs came up, the fat pads of his paws hesitant where they touch her shoulders, claws sheathed while the quiet chuckling of the demons lingered above his heads. They knew. They had to know.

She had to know.

But he did not -- and he was like a kitten, given a second chance. "I won't hurt you this time." He murmured, so carefully, ears flat against his skull as if it would stop the demonic laughter that tried to cow him. "I won't kill you, no matter what you do to me." his voice was a whisper, uncertain and child-like. Broken. Destroyed. Thread-bare.

{Relax. You are mine}

He shivered.

{In life, and in Death}

And he felt her claws. 

There were two separate worlds, and a fevered void that kept them apart. On the one side was Nayva, his Goddess, the darkest light in his life that he could not help but gravitate; one the other was himself, an equally dark flame, flickering in his fevered dream, reaching out and losing over and over again. Demons taunted him, hurt him, nearly destroyed him -- but even as close to death as he had become, he was still the nameless, the weed, the vile pestilence that could not simply die. Though he had her in his arms, though the machinations of his cruel, masochistic, fractured mind gave him shadows of a past female, come to curl up beside him, he still felt the echoes of pain deep in his bones.



{Relax. Relax} --- the same crooning sound in his ear, the same pressure on his body of a vicious, fat paw, holding him down, though he had promised in desperation that he would never repeat the same mistake again. He would never let the quiet fill his mind while she sickened, would never reach over with his big paw and lay it so gently against her neck. Oh, no, never again. He promised over and over, his words mumbled and coarse, a terrible, intangible litany that didn't make any cohesive sense at all. It was a broken prayer, that whispered out between his infected, bleeding gums. He would never hurt her again, no matter what she did to him. He had learned patience. He had learned to be still, he promised. He promised -- but the pressure remained, and it was the same strangled pain inside of his chest cavity where his heart twisted, and twisted again. Did it beat? It must have, but with each twisting throb, there was only fire in his veins.



All the nameless one could see was fire -- fire before his one opened eye, his pupil as wide as a plate, as the fullest moon in the darkest sky. Fire in his heart, fire in his past, fire consuming everything that he had ever realized too late he had loved and wanted. She was a creature that caused him so much suffering; a mother that had destroyed the foundation of himself as if she herself were the wild fire, uncontrolled, and the smoke that rolled off of her in fumes, the air that restricted his lungs. But he had loved her -- even as he had killed her, though he had not realized until it was too late.



The nameless' love was an obsessive thing, reaching past the very living and contorting through the stifling memories of a ghost. He could not let her go. His claws flexed where they were lying against his mother's shoulders, digging into the flesh, pulling her close even as his muzzle buried itself against the warmth of her throat: he did not know what the void hid. It was not his mother, but Nayva that had come. It was his Goddess that he held with violence and tenderness woven in every action. He could not purr - his vocal cords felt broken, but he held his ghost to him, even as he quietly took the drink that poured down his maw. Ears flat, the nameless one, the one who had never been good enough to love, let alone to name, held onto his ghost and to Nayva, feeling as if a swirling pool was coalescing beneath his body.



Darkness poured out like cooling liquid beneath him, a whirl pool that dragged him down even as the vision of his beautiful, ghostly mother began to disappear. "No, don't go." he croaked, his voice a broken whisper, claws flexing, digging into flesh, trying to keep her there with strength alone -- even as the darkness spilled over his head and dragged him down into temporary unconsciousness.

word count || 641

tags || Nayva Aeron 

OOC || I was thinking of him getting all of his power upgrades here - while somewhat unconscious, he realizes whatever it is that lets him access darker powers and it all manifests at once, driving him a little madder than usual. ALSO !