Toxic

Jan. 2nd, 2014 05:34 pm
feredar: (lonura)
[personal profile] feredar
Story: Toxic
Characters: Lonura
Warnings: Discussion of seduction for the purpose of murder and control


Unless I try very, very hard, every word that comes out of my mouth is toxic.

That’s something my mother never told me—I think because the gifts weren’t so strong in her. She can sort of…hypnotize people, I suppose is the best way of putting it. When they’re agitated or angry, she can talk them down. I think the last full siren in my family was my great-great-grandmother, who…well, let’s just say she found a more traditional use for her song.

And then there’s me.

I’m not sure why it comes out so strong in me, but it does. And I had to learn to deal with it, on my own. Not just toeing the line when I play or sing—the safest thing, of course, would be to do neither, but I couldn’t live without music—but every word I speak. I may be Temptation Made Flesh, but that doesn’t mean I have to draw on it.

As hard as I try, I can’t do things halfway, like my mother. If I draw on it at all, it’s an all-or-nothing thing. And I don’t want to do that, like my great-great-grandmother did.

Which isn’t to say I haven’t been tempted. Because I have. A few people I was angry with, who I wanted to end, and then…

I guess that love, sex, and rage really are all tangled up, at least inside me, because I was tempted—so tempted—to lure Nolani. From the moment I met her, I wanted her, more than life, almost more than music. It would have been easy, too. Nolani, at least when I met her, had this tendency towards fall in love too fast. Once her eye was caught, even for a moment, she was already halfway there. She’s grown out of it, thank God; otherwise I’d probably give in and keep her with me with my songs.

Fortunately, it hasn’t ever been necessary. And I haven’t been tempted, not really—in either way, to keep her or to punish someone else—for as long as we’ve been together. Because no matter how much I loved her, once I gave in, eventually, she would be dashed to pieces. And if I used it to kill someone else, no matter how justified, I don’t know that…well, no, I know that she would forgive me, because Nolani isn’t perfect, but she isn’t a hypocrite. If I had to kill someone, she would understand.

But I would never forgive me. And it would become easier to do it again, and again, with less and less justification. Because, unless I try very, very hard, every word that comes out of my mouth is sweet. Sweet to hear, and sweet to sing.

Sweet…and toxic.

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