Drabble a Day - Haze

The rumor goes around that this is the first time Enech couldn't chain a goddess.

She stands under the shadow of an overpass; only the burnt tip of a cigarette illuminating the slash of her smile. Smoke slithers up the cast of her cheek, gold and shadow from the fire between her lips. It curls to her like an obsessive lover tangled in her personal gravity. He's beneath her, caught under a heel that crushes deep onto the bone of his thigh, a deceptive strength in the slender line of her frame. His eyes are narrow rings of terrified olive and hazel, the drag of the cigarette a blaze of orange in the black of his overblown pupils. Hers are the electric blue of the ocean, the riptide dragging him out to open water.

He pleads, she doesn't sympathize. He demands answers, she doesn't explain anything. He bargains, she doesn't compromise.

He's the product of an overbearing mother who loved the drink more than her family. She's the product of two thousand years of conditioning. He went out tonight and chose the wrong moment and the wrong woman to lash out towards. She went out tonight and was compelled by ancient laws to seek retribution.

The bridge rattles as the late-night delivery trucks rumble into the city from the countryside. It drowns out the ragged breaths he sucks deep into his lungs. There's a rasp in his throat, a rattle from pain from the tip of her heel digging deep. He'll walk away with a bruise that lingers for weeks after this meeting.

At least he'll walk away. He'll keep her visage locked within the confines of his mind and only time will tell if it will be the deterrent to keep him from winding up another cog in the wheel of abuse, or if it will only push him that much more to the edge.

The cigarette blazes bright then dies. The smoke is tinted blood in the passing lights of the trucks. The pressure over his thigh drops as she steps back with a click of heels. A butt bounces off his chest and lands in his hand. In the morning, the imprint of her lipstick will be there and he'll find himself compelled to keep it.  

He looks up to see her retreating through the narrow overpass. The click of her heels is the sound of his freedom. At the other end, she passes underneath the yellow streetlight and the electric blue of her gaze fixes on him one last time. It's a warning.

Enech could not chain the goddess, but it could temper her.