Chapter 1 #2
At this point, Envy must be struggling to fathom what he ever saw in Sorrow. Finally, something she relates to.
They’re unsuited in every way, with his tailored suits and her gothic attire. They’ve spent most of their existence glaring at each other, even though they’re supposed to be crewmates. That is, apart from the brief spell in which they’d lost their sanity and gotten carnal.
Well, it had been a mistake. It hadn’t meant anything. And it’s over now.
Envy plucks a limp thread of Sorrow’s hair, then flicks it away like a weed.
“What’s it like to be desperate for attention, you ask?
I might counter that attack and inquire what it’s like to be insignificant for the same amount of time.
With that scrawny frame and loner attitude, it’s a mystery you haven’t simply disappeared into thin air. Not that anyone would miss you.”
Sorrow hikes up her chin. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Unlike you, I don’t care what my ex-lovers or anybody else thinks about me.”
“Is that right?” Envy slants his head. “Out of curiosity, do you have a matching t-shirt to go with your bullshit?”
“No, but I’ve got a slap to go with your face,” she replies with a fake smile.
To which his eyes glitter. “Has anyone ever told you how ravishing you look when you’re pissed off?”
“You know the answer to that.”
“Indeed. By comparison, I regret to inform you that slapping me wouldn’t change a thing about my face.
I’d still be prettier than creation itself.
By the way, let the celestial record show that I wasn’t out here because of you.
In that regard, your assumption was correct.
The pant stains were irritating me as much as the notion of camping.
Thus, I needed a respite. Ultimately, everything I do is all about me. ”
“In that case, go fuck yourself.”
“Precisely.” His grin should come with an explicit content rating. “What do you think I was coming out here to do?”
Sorrow tenses down to her ass cheeks. Based on his prizewinning expression, Envy thinks his cock is a sculpted work of art that needs routine polishing.
So that’s what lured him here. The discomforts of squatting outdoors like a nomad led to sleep deprivation, which in turn led to frustration, which finally led here. He’d needed to blow off steam.
Of course, it hadn’t been about Sorrow. He hadn’t noticed her absence after all, hadn’t realized she left their outpost while he and the rest of their crew slumbered in their respective corners of the forest.
The silence grates on Sorrow’s nerves, tension provoking her to supplement the quiet with additional insults. Now that shagging is no longer an option, how else will they pass the time?
Matter of fact, what are they still doing standing here?
A dragonfly skates across the water’s surface. The pond quivers, fluid lapping at Sorrow and Envy’s calves. Like chips of glass, constellations pierce the sky, producing tiny gaps in the hemisphere.
One star trembles, as if it’s about to fall. For some reason, it reminds Sorrow of a myth that circulates in their world. Something about the almighty stars burning their fiercest only when a deity is ready to hear the truth.
In any case, the firmament has never looked almighty to Sorrow. Instead, it has always resembled scars, a fragile surface poked by too many holes, impossible to stitch up. If anyone but Envy was standing beside her, she might consider sharing this observation.
Anyone else’s reaction would be safer.
A shift in her periphery jerks Sorrow from her thoughts. She startles as Envy’s index finger taps a spot below her clavicle, where a certain item usually decorates her vest. “No stitching needle tonight. By the way, when are you going to dispose of that pointless accessory?”
She whacks his digits away. “Just as soon as you get rid of yours,” she retorts, jerking her chin toward his dick. “Or do you need help locating it?”
“You dare offend the immortal cock?”
“What I do, or don’t do, is no one’s business. Never has been, and never will be.”
“Of course not. That would require you actually mattering to someone.”
Hate stings the rims of her eyes. “So that’s it. We’re back to where we started.”
“Oh, my clueless nymph.” It’s almost apologetic, remorseful, and consoling when his palm cups her cheek, one smooth thumb stroking her lower lip. “What made you think we ever detoured?”
Her teeth are near enough to sever a finger. “Perceptive as ever.”
“Marvelous.”
“Great.”
“Fine.”
“Perfect.” But as Sorrow thwacks away his hand, she notes the rustle of leaves behind him, her opposite knuckles bending into a fist because destiny has got to be kidding her right now. “Except not really, since we’re about to detour.”
“Oh?” Envy inquires. “Why’s that?”
In the future, Sorrow can reminisce on this moment and gloat that he hadn’t distracted her as much as she had him. It’s the only justification for why he’s not being vigilant.
With that in mind, she levels the pride god with an inconvenienced grin and whispers, “Because we’re not alone.”
Envy stiffens. Realization sharpens his gaze, the facade dropping like a curtain, revealing something akin to chagrin. Better yet, disgrace.
Nevertheless, the god thankfully gets his shit together. Peering into Sorrow’s eyes as if they’re mirrors, he scans the reflection of their surroundings.
They stare at each other. Then they dive, dodging the death arrow that shoots toward them.