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« on: January 22, 2014, 06:35:11 pm »
Something pure, no, something essential, something complete in him, not clean, was wrought in two pieces when she called him by their bond. The person that had once known her through a daze of hunger, an addict with a ward, woke hard. Not ward, perhaps. He had never hated her like the addled hate some benevolent hand, as he'd hated mother on occasion, leashing him when enough was enough, keeping him from his vice. Gretel without an L had always endeavored to make him happy. It was the hunger's fault it could not be calmed down; not by her kindness, and not by her willingness to sacrifice to it. It came back with intent, the suction in Hansel's heart exercising its own right to long for something, after neglect and abuse in the dark woods, loosing always to the greedy body.

He felt starved for her, a symbol now - standing outside the light while being much more of it than he - grown and shaped into something the wolf craved, and the person missed. In their childhood she had embodied a power, a state of mind that he was welcome to whenever she could give it. Now that craft had raised her, and she took its resemblance onto her strong limbs, and longer strandfall. He didn't know if she'd started caring for pretty, but pretty had come to her. When he dropped his shoulders in borrowed clothes, she could see the monster baring it's neck like a challenge, and her brother resign to whatever fate she'd deal. His cunning could be both a lure and sincere.

The clearing and its alabaster film flickered with the magic that shared the scene between them, distorting him cruelly. It was not sweet, this magic, even when it was fueled by so much welled up, strong love. Maybe because the love itself could not be sweet, when his was caked in regret, and hers was reinforced with determination. It was not what it had been when he had adored her through his waning life, and she had supported him with such unwavering attachment. Reflection off the blade joined the scene, and made a streak that managed to show itself on his already illustrious complexion, but became overwhelmed in his hair. Hansel leaned into the blade's ray, eyes rolling into his lids. The thought of such a fitting punishment enticed him, the boy attached to her thirsty for redemption, and the monster wanted to be sensual for her. It was an intimate thing, fighting, and it would never be forgotten by her if she triumphed.

"Hansel maybe." he said and caressed the light provided by her weapon once more with his chin before he looked at her again. It was a darker wine now. "Not brother. I don't think we have much relation, anymore. So much new blood in me." It was a vile thing to say with kind lips, and the tremble in his eyes, lit up by childhood summer for a small moment, tried to express the real sentiment of that inwardly aimed comment. "You have become every bit as beautiful as you've always been." Hansel was allowed to say, when the beast had meant to comment on her well developed flesh.

He came toward her, and the air moved his hair like their brook used to move clouds of dirt in its clarity, during decisive and sudden currents. His words contradicted his hand, raising. The seduction was such a big part of him now, since it alone had provided him with the victims that lined the hollow they'd both cared for once. His palm was moonward, fingers spread convex, strung out for her acceptance, elbow shaking. The beast must have his arm, then, because his eyes had all the sincerity of his meaning.

"Don't come here, Gerete." and then, as though there could be hope. "Leave your forgiveness at the edge of this clearing, please, and I'll collected when you've left."