Artistic outcast

Chapter 5

Vulnerability
Truly such a cursed word to many.
A cheap poison frothing out the mouths of the heartless as they shiver and shake.
Weakness a side effect of what is this humanitarian urge.

Vulnerability
It cracks down the invincible facade of Ego for the powerful men clutching the world between their greasy fingers.
The alcoholic solution rubbing off the falsely polished badge of pride with just a swipe.
The equivalent of walking blindly into a raging forest fire and expecting immunity to the burn.

Vulnerability?

Never heard of it, the blue eye man scoffed as he wringed out the cotton cloth in an ivory sink, drowning it in the collected ice water as he shed his shirt off the shoulder holding his lovely little kiss from his authoritative father.

The man held such slender and pale fingers with emphasized knuckles and translucent skin putting his veins on display in their collection of blues to greens and purple. He had hands that knew the taste of sin and the indulgence of labor, mafia's son or not, he worked as hard as a servant scrubbing the floors of a dungeon.

Those hands grasped the delicate cloth roughly in his hands as he dabbed at the festering wound, blood trickling down his arm as he was reminded of his humanity. Reminded of his morality in a single drop of the red liquid. so insignificant was the wound in its physicality, it was no more than a brazed lucky off the shoulder gunshot, but the psychological toll that shrouded Durian's mind was heavier than a black Hole weighing into the thin fabric of existence like a bear in a dangling hunter's net.

How else can a man react when his father spares him the mercy of a handheld metal cannon? Gratitude? The rhetoric was another factor weighing on the pitiful Durian's shoulders, rather i not say pitiful, it will poke his badge.

"My Lord, I have summoned the nurse maidens, their arrival is soon"

Cadbury intruded Durian's trademarked self care process, which truly was out of character for the professional, knock at the chamber's door, butler. The butler was met with the sight of a shirtless, hunched over the sink , glare over the shoulder Durian as he removed the Cloth from the wound as the cloth absorbed a new colour and was soon wringed back to its cream complexion.

"I beg you mind your manners, Cadbury. Forgetting to knock won't be as easy if I were to BREAK your knuckles. "

You may have guessed this sudden outburst of rage was of course to cover up the utter shame, sadness and pain in his heart. Durian was not a man of words and truly struggled with the convention or concept of correct emotional expression, it was a fatal weapon to others of course, the inability to articulate yourself correctly or your emotions that you inadvertently hurt people and create mass miscommunication while playing the victim. I urge no sympathy be paid to Durian , for sympathy leads him to sentience which compromises comfortable oblivion.

Durian, in his tantrum, shuddered the corner of the sink with his balled up fists as Cadbury took a breath, gravitating closer towards the hunched man.

"My apologies, my Lord, i am at fault... for it's entierity"

"Entireity? Cadbury i question your speech-"

"The Bullet was mine to take."

what was heard in yet another split second gap as those words graced the air like ghastly fumes, was the swivelling of Durian on his heel as an intrusive claw digged into Cadbury's shoulder harshly, the butler gritting his teeth as to maintain composure but his heart almost sunk into his liver as he saw the smallest grains of tears welled up in the corners of Durian's eyes contradicted by the bulging veins on his forehead.