Nightfall
Name: Nightfall
Author: Aei
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Summary: The lines between the past and the future blur, and a banshee hisses at Tom. Harry is not happy.
Nightfall
Tom dreams at times.
He dreams of the past. He dreams of a plain, sullied woman with nothing in her hands except for the power surging through her blood and memories of the one time she betrayed - the only time she betrayed her family; the consequences that occurred. Tom dreams. He sees the tragedy that was his parents unfolding night after night. Silent screams after one another. Filth covered skin racing across smooth porcelain and glazed eyes. A Narcissus not aware of his own doom. A witch worshipping a mortal; an inferior. The gods descending from their heavens, except the heirs to the snakes lost their heavens a long time ago.
Descent into madness, young ones, Tom hears these words over and over again as if it was ordained, and he fights not to succumb to the darkness. The certainty. The red eyes which haunts him. Reminds him of things he knows true deep within his heart , as if there was some part of him which acknowledged those red eyes and embraced the darkness … a second sight. Natural. Right. Perfect.
Tom is not dark.
Tom dreams.
Sometimes, he dreams of emerald eyes and a bittersweet kiss before the dagger sliced into his stomach and emerald eyes of a different sort … begging him not to -not to … if only Tom could remember and then he wakes up, wanting to scream but Tom can’t scream.
Harry is not very happy, dead.
Tom does not understand his dreams.
Author: Aei
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Summary: The lines between the past and the future blur, and a banshee hisses at Tom. Harry is not happy.
Nightfall
Tom dreams at times.
He dreams of the past. He dreams of a plain, sullied woman with nothing in her hands except for the power surging through her blood and memories of the one time she betrayed - the only time she betrayed her family; the consequences that occurred. Tom dreams. He sees the tragedy that was his parents unfolding night after night. Silent screams after one another. Filth covered skin racing across smooth porcelain and glazed eyes. A Narcissus not aware of his own doom. A witch worshipping a mortal; an inferior. The gods descending from their heavens, except the heirs to the snakes lost their heavens a long time ago.
Descent into madness, young ones, Tom hears these words over and over again as if it was ordained, and he fights not to succumb to the darkness. The certainty. The red eyes which haunts him. Reminds him of things he knows true deep within his heart , as if there was some part of him which acknowledged those red eyes and embraced the darkness … a second sight. Natural. Right. Perfect.
Tom is not dark.
Tom dreams.
Sometimes, he dreams of emerald eyes and a bittersweet kiss before the dagger sliced into his stomach and emerald eyes of a different sort … begging him not to -not to … if only Tom could remember and then he wakes up, wanting to scream but Tom can’t scream.
Harry is not very happy, dead.
Tom does not understand his dreams.