I am not your brother.
Fly, to the moon. Swinging relentlessly in the rapid dusk. Screaming until there's nothing left to yell as the moon bleeds fuller and the town falls deeper.
They are there, standing, in what remains of something great. They are fighting. And they are dying.
I am not your father. I will not whisper to you when things are troubled most. I will not pity you.
The tails are seperating, singing with their weight. And the buildings they touch, caress, scatter - like birds - across the ground. Fly. Fly away.
Bugs; far too insect like to remind him of anything but fleas in his fur, the small balls of flesh wrapped in cotton jump at him, pricking his skin. Itching, tickling him.
Do not ask for my help. I am not your savior.
Teeth, sliding open smoothly, reflect the shadow of the moon. Saliva sweats down the fangs, burying someone in the flood of a droplet.
The darkness, emptiness, grows. His neck stretches forward to nip, playful, at the fleas bitting him. Screaming at him as they wave their tiny fleshy arms. Throwing light from the very moon at him.
His tongue is licking the taste off the edges of his teeth even as the magnificient tails behind him sweep - no likeness but for a lava of fur and wind, flowing and flying and leaving nothing in it's wake.
I am He who sleeps inside of you. He who Hungers.
He is rising. The fleas are biting sharper now. The itches start to hurt.
He calls, the sound vibrating from his throat and sending more than a few mud and brick buildings scattering across the ground. His teeth snap at the moon, smelling it.
I am that which exists.
It's an unfamilar sensation, this pulling.
He's screaming as he begins to feel himself .. unraveling, somehow. Unraveling and binding, and binding and binding. It feels like he's choking, as if there is no air in the world.
He thrashes against it, swinging himself from side to side. Flying even as he's caught, the net pulling tighter.
Fly. Fly away home. No, no more flying. You are mine.
Here I cage you, here I will keep you. Here I will watch as you slowly fade, like the sun. Like the morning, even as it rises.
I will be.