Jealousy - Moros

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

He lurks back behind the shelves, still a bit conspicuous even when using a glamour, and waits for your friend. The basilisk…Moros 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 his eyes linger on you as you lean against the counter. His chest does an odd little flip, and he doesn’t understand the feeling.

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

He’s numb, or at least he was numb until you decided to worm your way into his heart.

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

It’s a nightmare.

So, when he sees a man brush close against you from where he leans against the wall of the bookstore, he 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, Moros quickly realizes. He has never before felt this way as he watches the scene play out. This feeling, this digging in his chest, like some beast is tearing him open to devour his heart.

You’ve reared back before Moros 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 Moros 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.” Moros says, smiling in a way that’s more unsettling than anything else, “Leave.”

The man scoffs. It makes Moros 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. Moros nearly sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

He 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.

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

“Leave,” He 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 his face, and his skin solidifies beneath your touch.

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

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

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