He couldn't take it anymore. He was going to snap soon.
It eddied around him, chilling the air. His anger.
He could feel the shields fracturing. He'd punctured his own before, felt it break beneath his rage as his hand had connected with the wall, as if some force had slipped, failed to stop his hand. He had gazed in wonder at the intoxicating, excrusiating, bleeding mark where he'd rent away flesh and muscle.
He wanted to take the girl and slap her. Yell into her face, "Stop it, you little brat! Don't complain when there's nothing for it! You have everything you could ever want, ever! You knew your father! You have a mother!"
He wanted to take the woman and shake her. Demand in his harshest voice, "What's the matter with you?! Just because I sigh it means I won't work?! I work hard all the damn week and it's nothing, nothing when you want something done now, now, now!!!"
He wanted to take the girl's mother and scream, "Why not?! What was wrong with me?! Why abandon me, didn't you love me?! YOUR OWN CHILD! YOUR OWN ******** CHILD! WHO AM I?! WHOSE b*****d CHILD AM I?! WHERE'S MY FAMILY; WHO SPAWNED THIS PUTRID LITTLE THING YOU THREW AWAY THAT IS ME?!"
But he couldn't say it. As with many things, he could only seethe, or write. Stow it away in the back of his mind. Because he couldn't puncture their shields, no matter how perferated his own became.
Silver Nephilim Community Member 
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Community Member
Very nice.