[Tunneled vision, the deafening rush of air in and out his lungs -- it's like being sucked under the curse all over again, watching everything unfold from someplace deep in the back of his mind. Watching Hector dare to lean towards the sharp, trembling point of his knife, trusting Isaac more, maybe, than he does himself. His control is slipping, fingers squeezing the hilt so hard he barely feels them.
Why he's even searching Hector's face at all for something that goes against his conditioning, against all the coldness and ruthlessness that kept him alive, he doesn't know. No good has ever come of letting his heart want what it wants, or placing his faith in anything other than himself and his devils - and he can't promise Hector he wouldn't speak Rosaly's name again, just like he's sure Hector couldn't promise him that he'd never run away, run towards a brighter future, a prettier face. Better to strangle any hope left in his heart while it's was still so young, too frail to thrash as violently.
At least, if he expected nothing, he'd never know disappointment.
Isaac blinks, shoulders dropping. His ears are still ringing when he growls and finally wrenches the knife away, staring hazily at it in his hand. His demons clamor for blood - and if they can't have Hector's, they'll settle for his, when he'd be alone with them.]
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Why he's even searching Hector's face at all for something that goes against his conditioning, against all the coldness and ruthlessness that kept him alive, he doesn't know. No good has ever come of letting his heart want what it wants, or placing his faith in anything other than himself and his devils - and he can't promise Hector he wouldn't speak Rosaly's name again, just like he's sure Hector couldn't promise him that he'd never run away, run towards a brighter future, a prettier face. Better to strangle any hope left in his heart while it's was still so young, too frail to thrash as violently.
At least, if he expected nothing, he'd never know disappointment.
Isaac blinks, shoulders dropping. His ears are still ringing when he growls and finally wrenches the knife away, staring hazily at it in his hand. His demons clamor for blood - and if they can't have Hector's, they'll settle for his, when he'd be alone with them.]