You tell me that I am beyond reason. I do not tell you that it is simply your reason that I do not see.
You think the world beautiful; I think it only splendid when wreathed in fire. You cringe at the acrid scent of smoke, the billowing flower of gray. I smell the aroma of chaos and glory in the spectrum of destruction. You hear the screams and they destroy you; I know it. I hear the screams and know the world churns; they are a necessary cacophony.
You call for my vengeance, think it be better exacted on you. My derision rings deafening. You think too highly of yourself, to suggest I bring ruin to you and you alone. That it might be sufficient. I will raze the world in a blazing light. This is my promise.
Please. Your words are quiet against the crackling inferno that surrounds. And yet I hear you, clear as thunder in silence. We can still fix this. I see you truly believe that, think it to be plausible truth. I laugh in your face. You flinch, and I press closer. Your eyes are enrapturing. I feel your breath on my skin - it comes fast.
Please, you say again.
Repetition changes nothing. There is sorrow warring with grief and hope in your face, and I stand curious. There are things that consume you, and I wish I could taste your fear. How be it like, to see slaughter and know something other the silent promise of mayhem?
The world will burn. All will end. And then it shall begin again, as all things shall.
I hear the incredulity in your voice. This is madness, you say. Perhaps. I pause - your face lifts. I think it sad. Perhaps not. I think I hear the shattering of your conviction, and there is something storming behind your eyes. My pulse quickens beneath my skin.
Stop me, or stand aside.
Is it war you want? What is it you wish to achieve?
A puff of surprised laughter escapes me, and I hear the surprise in my own voice as I speak. You ask that of me now? A nod, and solemnity overtakes. Do you not see? The world is boring. It is quiet and content, and it is boring.
I see the storm bleeding out from your eyes onto your face, and it obliterates the hope. I think you more interesting. Your jaw clenches, unclenches. Then we fight, you say.
I laugh, and the fire screams with me.
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