Envy | Russell Livius (bringthemlow) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-12-25 19:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | envy |
It's bugging me / Grating me / And twisting me around
Who: Envy (bringthemlow) [Narrative]
What: Being overwhelmed. And a Christmas gift.
When: Backdated to earlier in the week before Christmas.
Where: Southern California.
Warnings: Meh. Brief language.
Envy wrote that he'd be in his office during the holidays. He lied.
The reality was that he'd been skulking about his house, a sharply angled affair replete with over-sized windows and other peoples' belongings. It was blissfully free of life, and the sweet, syrupy silence which eased down its halls soothed the Sin's irritation.
It'd been a very long time since all seven of the deadly Sins called the same country home. That they were crammed into such a small space picked at Envy; 3,000 miles was nothing, not when it felt as if every man and woman's soul fell prey to their combined influence. Around Hell, around Heaven, around gods and mortals, it didn't make much difference -- he always managed to focus. He could maintain who he was versus what he was. His spidery touch could be pushed out onto others rather than causing him to eat his own heart.
When family was in town, this became something of a problem. They amplified Envy, their own power building and pressing and sliding against him until he invariably felt like a tuning fork. Just standing there, over-sensitive and shuddering with the hateful want-take-have of it all; that was how the other Sins left him.
He'd gone to great lengths in the past to try and escape that pattern. Changed professions, cities, countries, even put Invidia away in favor of Envy. All to catch his breath, maintain control. Except now was different, wasn't it? This place was a good one, a wormy apple ripe for plucking. Disappearing altogether, Envy decided, was not an option. Maybe a holiday, then. Maybe...
Maybe Pride would call on him and tell him to pick up his Christmas present. Jesus wept.
When it happened, Envy twitched. What in the nine fucking circles could the eldest of them want? Or give, for that matter? But like always, he went.
He went when Pride wasn't home. Stood at the door and considered, before the hired help opened up, what to say. I'm Dante's brother. He said he has a parcel for me. To which the maid or the butler or fuck-all would take in the tall, lanky man in one practiced glance. You don't look like Mr. Solomon's brother, they would no doubt say. Envy would smile, sneer, perhaps grind his teeth. No, he'd admit. No, I'm afraid the family resemblance wears a bit thin for us.
When the door opened, the maid or butler or fuck-all peered up at Envy. "Hullo. I'm Russ Livius. There should be a parcel waiting."
And that was that. He kept his hands to himself, did not pluck at the mortal's heartstrings. (One didn't play with what was Pride's, not when one stood on the castle's drawbridge.) Gift in hand, he turned and left. It sat beside him on the car ride. At red lights, the Sin would turn and study its packaging. It sat with the everlasting patience of the inanimate, waiting out the short drive to its new home.
He stood in his foyer while he opened the box, serpentine features blank. The stiletto inside was a beast, less dagger than short sword. Envy made an appreciative sound, a warm and affectionate thing which slithered out from his chest; he didn't realize he was doing it, too caught up in the blade's edge, in testing its balance.
Pride had given him a gift. Hefting it in one hand, he considered its meaning. It could have meant everything, but this was Pride, and this was Envy, so he knew it was more likely to mean nothing at all. Still. This was Pride (it meant nothing), and this was Envy (it meant everything), and with that thought in mind he packaged his Christmas present back up with a reverent touch.
In the end, he would have what he wanted from his family. In the end, he would take the things he coveted so from them. And though Pride may have been untouchable, above him, beyond his reach, he had nonetheless given Envy the tool in which to take--
He had given--
The Sin trembled minutely, alone in his house with a virgin blade. It was all too much. He needed to go. He needed blood and suffering other than his own. He needed peace.
But he'd be damned if he didn't take that knife with him on the trip to nowhere.