Jealousy - Morana

The bookstore smells like cinnamon. Morana quite likes it; a comforting scent, one that reminds her of those candles Elis is fond of burning as they read.

She lurks back behind the shelves, still a bit conspicuous even when using a glamour, and waits for your friend. The basilisk…Morana can’t remember the name. Your friend, regardless, and the one who currently has a hold of a very important folder.

You’re up near the front of the store, and her eyes linger on you as you lean against the counter. Her chest does an odd little flip, and she doesn’t understand the feeling.

She doesn’t understand much about feelings in general, she’s come to realize. Apathy is her default, but she wants to feel more. To feel the deep fury and sadness and guilt her siblings do…she’s just never been able to.

She’s numb, or at least she was numb until you decided to worm your way into her heart.

Aside from emotions, Morana doesn’t know the finer details of mortal interactions like Elis does. She’s not sure what the subtle glances and touches mean, and don’t get her started on trying to parse out the meaning of your words.

It’s a nightmare.

So, when she sees a man brush close against you from where she leans against the wall of the bookstore, she figures it’s a friendly gesture. Your other little mortals do things like that all the time, after all.

Then he reaches for you, trying to slide an arm around your shoulders-

That’s not friendly, Morana quickly realizes. She has never before felt this way as she watches the scene play out. This feeling, this digging in her chest, like some beast is tearing her open to devour her heart.

You’ve reared back before Morana even has a chance to approach, your elbow slamming into the man’s face and sending blood spraying across the counter. Luckily, the store is rather empty in the early mornings.

“What the fuck?” The man spits, blood dripping down his mouth and chin, “What was that for?”

He goes to push you, perhaps to shove you back into the counter, but Morana has had quite enough of him in general. A hand clasps down tightly on the idiot’s shoulder, depthless black eyes staring down in warning.

“You have one chance.” Morana says, smiling in a way that’s more unsettling than anything else, “Leave.”

The man scoffs. It makes her want to twitch.

“I’m not afraid of a cambion,” The man sneers, before glancing back at the feathered wings, “Or…a nephilim.”

Wrong on two counts. Morana nearly sighs.

People mistake her as the merciful one. Elis is waspish, and Morana clams them more often than not, so others don’t realize that Elis is really the one with the soft heart.

Morana, on the other hand? She wants this man to become nothing more than atoms. She could do it, too. She and death have a complicated relationship, it’s true…she’s seen things she wishes he could forget.

But, ultimately, death is the tool she knows best. She wields it like a weapon, and she rarely loses.

She could rend flesh from bone, turn this man’s blood into nothing but mist. She’d watch it paint the walls, cover her hands…

You. It’d cover you. Most of all, she wants to see you wearing this swine’s blood and nothing else.

She refrains, though. Your little basilisk friend would have to clean it all up, and they seem to turn pale at the sight of blood on a good day.

Morana bares her fangs, licking along the sharpened canines with a black forked tongue. The skin around the left of her face becomes hazy, turning to black smoke and revealing the bones and teeth in her jaw.

“Leave,” She hisses, “Or stay, if you want. You could provide us some amusement.”

If the words themselves are frightening, the promise that lies beneath is enough to make the man stumble back. He’s off without even a muttered word, and the acrid smell of urine lingers in the air behind him.

You raise a hand to her face, and her skin solidifies beneath your touch.

“Are you alright?” She asks, voice low.

“Fine,” You say, “Better after watching a grown man piss his pants.”

She chuckles and covers your hand with her own clawed one. She didn’t get her desire, not yet, but she’d see you dressed in naught but blood soon enough. The both of you have plenty of enemies, after all.