04-05-2022, 08:16 PM
He caught but a glimpse of Hurley’s smirk before it vanished, but it was enough.
When men like him curved their mouths, it did not matter in which direction they went. A smile was as good an indication of malicious intent as any frown.
It was enough to disorient the ‘little’ shadow into a short-lived smirk of his own. Gone as soon as it twisted to life, but for a reckless moment it had lived. Show me, Hurley requested – no, that had not been a request. Show me. It held all the expectation of someone that knew they would not be denied.
Malachi followed after him, cold fingers returned to fret at the insides of his pockets. Neither he nor his mother bothered to acknowledge one another.
“Mr. Hurley,” addressed Miriam, dabbing at her dry cheek once again before lowering her hand.
“Thank you. And thank you for taking the time to come by, dear. Lyle did always love seeing you and your father.”
The priest coughed behind them and turned away to cover it. His mother’s gaze darted to the back of his head, hawk-like, before she offered her best attempt at a saddened smile. It looked strained instead.
“…As I was saying. I am sure that my husband would appreciate you being here.”
Malachi’s cough, meanwhile, caught Levi’s gaze and he waved off the confused look his brother shot him. He swiveled back to face the widow and the parasite, passed them, and came to rest at the side of his father’s open casket.
Still dead. As expected. Cold now, should anyone dare to touch him. Pliable too, now that it’d been long enough for his muscles to stiffen and release again. No longer slave to a well-worn scowl, he looked kinder in death – but he was still a corpse.
He could only look so pleasant with a layer of makeup covering the bruising of his broken neck.
When men like him curved their mouths, it did not matter in which direction they went. A smile was as good an indication of malicious intent as any frown.
It was enough to disorient the ‘little’ shadow into a short-lived smirk of his own. Gone as soon as it twisted to life, but for a reckless moment it had lived. Show me, Hurley requested – no, that had not been a request. Show me. It held all the expectation of someone that knew they would not be denied.
Malachi followed after him, cold fingers returned to fret at the insides of his pockets. Neither he nor his mother bothered to acknowledge one another.
“Mr. Hurley,” addressed Miriam, dabbing at her dry cheek once again before lowering her hand.
“Thank you. And thank you for taking the time to come by, dear. Lyle did always love seeing you and your father.”
The priest coughed behind them and turned away to cover it. His mother’s gaze darted to the back of his head, hawk-like, before she offered her best attempt at a saddened smile. It looked strained instead.
“…As I was saying. I am sure that my husband would appreciate you being here.”
Malachi’s cough, meanwhile, caught Levi’s gaze and he waved off the confused look his brother shot him. He swiveled back to face the widow and the parasite, passed them, and came to rest at the side of his father’s open casket.
Still dead. As expected. Cold now, should anyone dare to touch him. Pliable too, now that it’d been long enough for his muscles to stiffen and release again. No longer slave to a well-worn scowl, he looked kinder in death – but he was still a corpse.
He could only look so pleasant with a layer of makeup covering the bruising of his broken neck.
