angels fall and darkness reigns

I pretty much assumed he'd leave but then he surprised me with this...lol. :o

Disappointment was left to fester like a sickness within him as Cara did not even attempt to try to salvage it, did not attempt to change his mind. Predictably, she had failed him in that instant, too. In some small semblance, the darkling could not help but admire her for it: for her resolute readiness to cut from the Spine what could not care for anything beyond himself. He had tried, and every time he had gotten hurt. Even Quicksilver had cut his own mark on Sinaaq despite that they had not known each other for long. Leaving him without so much as a word had hurt, though Sinaaq acted as if it did not matter. His indifference was a coping mechanism he had developed a long, long time ago and at this point he failed to see a way to even turn it off. It was so resolutely a part of him that without it he feared he would not know who he was. Losing himself was a large unknown and typical to most cognitive beings, he subconsciously feared what he did not know. Thus, it remained his safety line and he clung to it like a parasite.

Even Cara had left a small slice of pain upon him, her own wound despite that Sinaaq had tried to avoid feeling anything towards her besides contempt. He still questioned her ability to rule as he first had upon their initial meeting but warred with the slight swell of pride that she didn't bother to grovel to him. He hadn't been looking for her to grovel, but to see if she truly did care as she had spoken. Someone who cared would have fought a little harder as opposed to accepting a truth and taking the only plausible course of action. She had failed. Still, Sinaaq was not sure how to handle or deal with the disappointment he felt, irrational to him as it was.

“That's it?” Sinaaq inquired ardently, raising to all fours, turning to face her in full, ignoring the wrinkle of her muzzle in warning. “You're not even going to try to convince me?” He was even more skeptical of her so called words of “caring”, disbelieving her now more so than he had before. “Would you have tried to convince Quicksilver would he be here in my place instead?” Sinaaq demanded to know, his once companion's name leaving his lips acidic, tasting like ashes in his mouth. He missed Quicksilver; and hated every second of it — fearing that he would, too, miss her and her wretched Spine.

He hated it and feared it. He did not know how to communicate such a thing to her and even if he could find the right way to put it, he did not want her to know, at the same time. He had to protect himself, keep others out so they could not do what Adlartok, his precious and most hated had done to him. So they could no longer destroy him. It had become the basis of his survival instincts but it made him what he was: Wretched. Dark. Poison. One could even go as far as to say that he was feeling, perhaps, a spark of jealousy assuming that: yes, she would have put more effort into convincing Quicksilver because it was the other male that had been more approachable. Not tormented as his darker counterpart. They had balanced one another out in a unorthodox way, like a yin and yang effect. “I chased her out, you know. The wench with the ugly scar down her face,” Sinaaq was more than vain enough to let such a thing become a massive turn off for him. “I chased her out for you,” The darkling hissed at his (ex?) Queen unsure why he was even bothering informing her of it. It had happened some time ago now and hardly mattered anymore.