Monophobia ཉ MikaYuu

༄ོ⠀|⠀Day 17

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⠀⠀⠀"N-No..." Yuichiro muttered beneath his very breath, bewilderment and shock overcoming his features. "There is no way... I would ever go with you, Crowley."

⠀⠀⠀Crowley looks amused as if he'd just heard a joke, or in this case, a foolish statement. His lips curl into a tight smile, and his eyes seem to mimic the action. He is tense and appeared to be trying not to wince. His hold on the raven's throat slightly tightens to the point it is utterly agonizing to simply breathe or even swallow. Forcefully tugging the creature closer, his lips barely ghosting above said creature's ear, his warm breath could be felt when he spoke, "I do not know who you think you are, but you better control what you say. You act as if your words mean something, as if they matter, but let me tell you, pretty bird, they don't."

⠀⠀⠀Then, Yuichiro's spine is slamming into the wall behind him, bones crunching like gravel as it is crushed beneath someone's weight. It is painful, like a flame increasing in heat and intensity as it spirals upwards to the nape of his neck down to his waist. He can tell that the red-haired male's patience is thinning, smaller and smaller like the slow movement of a match lit to a bomb. It does not matter though, because Yuichiro is more than determined to infuriate this monarch of a human.

⠀⠀⠀Witnessing the dark-haired male choke, Crowley takes a shuttering breath, "A winged-creature like you is merely a part of society itself, and even if you are somewhat considered part of the population, you sure as hell aren't treated like you are. You are meant to be an object for the living, a tool, a relief, a toy— to be treated and cared for like a human isn't your destiny, or your niche."

⠀⠀⠀"You think I don't know that?" Yuichiro spat.

⠀⠀⠀"I didn't give you permission to speak to me," Crowley hissed bitterly. "I am in control of you and your life now, so I recommend you think about what you say and do before doing so."

⠀⠀⠀"I am Mikaela's, not yours."

⠀⠀⠀Crowley allows the infuriated excuse of a chortle leave his lips and erupts to life, but through his own scarlet-hued eyes, he isn't amused. He is angered, disgusted, demented. As if just by hearing Mikaela's name, the man is revolted— facial features mustered into one of vex and irate as his muscles tense with every rising breath. "Not only are you admitting the fact that you can and are owned like a toy, you have made the selfish decision that you'd rather have your whole race to become extinct. Did you not hear me earlier, fool? Besides Krul, I can burn this entire place to shambles and debris."

⠀⠀⠀There is an unknown power flowing through Yuichiro's veins, a kind of energy that is fairly strange and something he knew should not have been there at that moment, but whatever it was it was telling him to rebel, to be confident, to challenge. He suppressed a choke and spoke out the words from the top of his head, slow yet full of provocation, "By then, I will have the entire winged-creature race freed from this place."

⠀⠀⠀"Don't make a threat you cannot keep."

⠀⠀⠀"It isn't a threat," Yuichiro snarled just as intensely. "It's a promise."

⠀⠀⠀Crowley smirked and used his free hand to click on a button somewhere close to his ear, his voice deep and screaming rage with each word he hissed, "Someone find my daughter and tell her to meet me near the back room, quickly, now. Tell her I have a surprise— she wouldn't miss a chance to see it."

⠀⠀⠀His demand sounded cocky, Yuichiro thought fearfully as he gulped, the saliva tight in his throat as he attempted to swallow down the desperation and terror. Crowley's words edged him closer to curiosity to what he had in store for him, whether it be something as simple as death, or even something as terrorizing as torture. Within minutes, a jolly hum rang loudly in his ears. Yuichiro didn't know if it was because of his acute senses or whether that was how deafeningly loud the humming was, but whichever it was, it didn't do him any good. It sounded awfully familiar, like the smooth running of river water, or the graceful blooming of a petal sprouting from within. It was soft and joyful, yet it still held that tinge of coldness.