"You opened up your magic system to the world; you pulled it out and lit it up and sustained that. That changes things," he thought of the transformed comb of horn that he left in the laboratory. Would they ever finish it?
She turned to him and they looked into each other's eyes and he had to kiss her and there was no way to be tight and close enough; he wanted to lock her away inside of him to be kept forever, he wanted to be inside of her, he wanted to consume her and possess her more than ever. The intensity of this feeling frightened him. Holding her while her blood spilled bright on his trousers and sleeves seemed to have thrown him into a spiral that was troubling because it reached into his unconscious, where he had no insight into its mechanisms. The events of this evening made him more certain than ever that he was descending into madness — it would not be the first time in his life. Another cycle, completed? He had to leave her until he got a hold of himself. It was all too much at once; something would have to give.
"Right," he said, as an unspecific answer to her assurance. The smell of blood seemed to get stronger, until he could not smell anything else. She did not know, had seen none of the books and secret texts, did not understand how deep it went and how deeply it could root itself in a person. It was known that power corrupted, but Samuel knew that to be an oversimplification. The merging red and red, where life turned to bloody pulp and quickened back to to life, where bones grew from combs — there was a principle to it, and a knowledge. 'We call upon the Red Grail, who gives life; who takes life; who is not sated'
It was all messed up. He would never be free of his past, nor would he ever get the closure to understand why it had happened as it did. So he would be forced to reenact it forever, looking for that answer. She would die, wouldn't she? How close had she come today? He was setting it into motion all over again. But it did not have to be like that — there was a way to stop it. He had to believe that. But in his current state, how could he make himself know it?
He was holding her still, her body fitted against his like it was tailor-made for that purpose, smaller and narrower just the right amount. Some minutes passed, while he was lost in thought. It was lucky she could not observe him, the way they laid with each other. He felt very warm and heavy. With a start, he sat up and took off his jacket with the bloodied sleeves.
She turned to him and they looked into each other's eyes and he had to kiss her and there was no way to be tight and close enough; he wanted to lock her away inside of him to be kept forever, he wanted to be inside of her, he wanted to consume her and possess her more than ever. The intensity of this feeling frightened him. Holding her while her blood spilled bright on his trousers and sleeves seemed to have thrown him into a spiral that was troubling because it reached into his unconscious, where he had no insight into its mechanisms. The events of this evening made him more certain than ever that he was descending into madness — it would not be the first time in his life. Another cycle, completed? He had to leave her until he got a hold of himself. It was all too much at once; something would have to give.
"Right," he said, as an unspecific answer to her assurance. The smell of blood seemed to get stronger, until he could not smell anything else. She did not know, had seen none of the books and secret texts, did not understand how deep it went and how deeply it could root itself in a person. It was known that power corrupted, but Samuel knew that to be an oversimplification. The merging red and red, where life turned to bloody pulp and quickened back to to life, where bones grew from combs — there was a principle to it, and a knowledge. 'We call upon the Red Grail, who gives life; who takes life; who is not sated'
It was all messed up. He would never be free of his past, nor would he ever get the closure to understand why it had happened as it did. So he would be forced to reenact it forever, looking for that answer. She would die, wouldn't she? How close had she come today? He was setting it into motion all over again. But it did not have to be like that — there was a way to stop it. He had to believe that. But in his current state, how could he make himself know it?
He was holding her still, her body fitted against his like it was tailor-made for that purpose, smaller and narrower just the right amount. Some minutes passed, while he was lost in thought. It was lucky she could not observe him, the way they laid with each other. He felt very warm and heavy. With a start, he sat up and took off his jacket with the bloodied sleeves.
