[Perhaps it hurts so much, because in order to do so, he simply had to offer him something that made him so happy he couldn't bear to see past it. Blinded entirely by obtaining what he wanted most. It had never been the soul jam, as it turns out.]
[In his fury, there is a dark glee at finally getting his hands around his throat. At squeezing him until he couldn't breathe, until he crumbled under his fingers, and he never had to look at him ever again. So he could wipe this entire disgusting affair away, warp it until it turned into something else, some pretty lie. Yes, Pure Vanilla had never meant it, had never-]
[He's the one that chokes, the moment fingers cup his face. A feeling he can't identity laces down his spine. The sensation of contact, which had already been foreign to him for millennia, twice so with this form. It stuns him for a horrible few seconds and finally his grip on Truthless' neck lessens.]
[Like Truthless, he too can see the words for what they are, for the barest moment he is unclouded by emotion, he floats through the eye of the storm.]
[Poor, sad thing, it no longer knows what it desire, indeed.]
[The Maestrom begins anew as he screams once more, wounded, horrified and confused, and the soft pitter-pat of tears lands on Truthless' face.]
no subject
[In his fury, there is a dark glee at finally getting his hands around his throat. At squeezing him until he couldn't breathe, until he crumbled under his fingers, and he never had to look at him ever again. So he could wipe this entire disgusting affair away, warp it until it turned into something else, some pretty lie. Yes, Pure Vanilla had never meant it, had never-]
[He's the one that chokes, the moment fingers cup his face. A feeling he can't identity laces down his spine. The sensation of contact, which had already been foreign to him for millennia, twice so with this form. It stuns him for a horrible few seconds and finally his grip on Truthless' neck lessens.]
[Like Truthless, he too can see the words for what they are, for the barest moment he is unclouded by emotion, he floats through the eye of the storm.]
[Poor, sad thing, it no longer knows what it desire, indeed.]
[The Maestrom begins anew as he screams once more, wounded, horrified and confused, and the soft pitter-pat of tears lands on Truthless' face.]