Lord of the Flame (Response to 2)

Alrighty! Here’s a bit of what I wrote (as inspired by last week’s photo):


The man twirled the flame around his forefinger, reveling in the warmth. The flame rolled down into his palm where it spread the width of his hand, then curled back into a vibrant ball. His expression was sour as he watched the little flame, as though wishing it would burn him.

“But then you would not be so special,” cooed a woman’s voice from the doorway. The man crushed the flame in his fist.

“How long have you been standing there?” he asked, refusing to look at her.

“Long enough,” she said. He heard her footsteps as she approached. She took the seat beside him and crossed one leg over the other. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He scoffed, but he turned to face her and his breath caught. Her eyes were an even more icy blue than he’d remembered and her pale blonde hair fell in elegant waves over her shoulders. She never ceased to catch him off-guard, no matter the decades that passed.

“I’ve been busy,” he said, clearing his throat.

“I can see that.” Her eyes broke free of his gaze and swept around the room. Ashes were still falling delicately from the ceiling. Tables and chairs laid in charred heaps around the bar, save for the two seats they used.

He drew a deep breath, willing himself to speak. “I knew you’d come.” Her eyes snapped back to his face and she raised an eyebrow.

“Did you now?”

“Yes. This was the easiest way to get your attention.”

“Well, you have it.” She smiled sweetly at him. Instinctively, he rose from his stool, putting distance between them, and paced the length of floor next to where the window had been.

“I want out,” he said decisively. The woman said nothing in return, so he continued. “I want to go back to living a normal life. It’s no longer amusing to strike fear into the eyes of everyone I meet.”

She listened intently, but his skinned bristled when her expression remained passive.

“I understand that I asked for this,” he told her, “but now I am asking you to take it back from me.” He stopped pacing and faced her, hands outstretched and full of dancing flames. “Please.” She considered him for a moment and pursed her lips.

“No.”

The man’s face fell, but his disappointment quickly gave way to rage and he thrust his palms toward her, sending their fiery contents at her perfect face. Her expression finally broke and she narrowed her eyes. For a brief moment, her irises flashed a dark blue and the flames the man had sent hurtling toward her fell to ashes in chunks of ice, shattering on contact with the concrete.

She rose from her chair and approached him, surrounded by an icy mist he knew could turn to lethal shards as she desired. He wanted to turn tail and run as far from her as he could, but for better or worse he stood his ground. He’d angered her, but the fact she hadn’t killed him on the spot was promising. She still needed him.


Feel free to share your responses in the comments. New prompt will be up soon!

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