T a i s c e
Dear Makeda,
Taisce watched you approach, with your sable skin painted like sweeping dunes. You were satin, gleaming gold and red and simple brown. Taisce thought you wore so many colours; the soul of the earth imprinted across your slender frame.
Taisce is so very far from your earthen hues. He succumbed to the ocean so long ago now.
Still he watched you, everywhere from the glittering gold of the delicate jewelry hanging from your nose and dancing across your cheek, to the khol lines that followed the sharp angle of your cheeks and gathered together into a ‘v’. You wore the earth (its paint, its metal, its gems), like he wore the sea. Each of you were wild that day, each of you were catastrophic in your boredom.
Together you were the wrath of the ocean and the desert set to consume it.
He sang to you, unwavering, haunting and beautiful, but you had already heard him hadn’t you? Already that song, rising and falling like the swell of the sea, had pulled you in as gently, as slyly as the tide pulling you out to sea. It was familiar, a warm memory slipping beneath your skin begging to be remembered.
So he waited for you, like a spider for its fly. His web is gossamer gold and it stretches, fine and gleaming, in marble art across his skin.
Though Taisce stood quite still, did you see how his skin rippled, Makeda? It was a testament to the waters that lapped at his cloven feet.
For every step you took to him, your dragon was awakening. Already it watched him with orange-blue eyes (so many eyes!), that were so alert. Your dragon knew, even then. But still you stepped closer still and still he remained silent.
That kelpie boy enjoyed the ease with which you came to him, with your scorpion neck so proudly arched. You were a prize of the desert and he knew the davke oh so well. His eyes curled and twisted up your spiral horns and his pearl eyes glimmered. We will never know if it was recognition that flared then.
His collar gleamed beneath Solis’ gaze, it was turning grubby black and red with rust, but it was silver enough to still look fierce and fettering. Its story was one of blood and it was as potent as the canid teeth that lay hidden beneath his golden lips.
Ears, long as champagne flutes, and just as elegant, tipped to catch your words. Shells fell from his body as he moved. They landed in the sand with a ripple of chimes like spilled gold. Taisce’s steel-blue skin twitched and he smiled, a wine rich smile for you, the slender girl upon her beach, her watchful serpent curling about her limbs.
Taisce moved again and the desert wondered where his spear had gone. But waves crash into rocks as seafoam sprayed across his skin; it darkened him with sin. The kelpie looks to the painted girl and speaks, at last. “Waiting.” He muses slowly.
He ascends to you, over slippery rocks that cannot trip him. His skin dripped eternally and his sea-storm mane and tail hung as a waterfall may. When he moved close to you, and he moved very close indeed, you might have been able to scent the salt upon his skin, the breeze of the ocean roaring out at sea.
He looked to your lavender eyes and then away over your desert skin, over your limbs as fine and long and dangerous as the spears he once threw. Taisce tasted the air, they way you made it smell of smoke and spices. Your skin was dry, but it helped him remember, and that is why he lingered close, close, close. That is why he circled you and then came to rest before you.
He was the tide and he would pull you out to sea.
“Calling old friends.” Taisce said to you, in a voice that sings from the ocean deep.
----
Author: Unknown
@Makeda - gosh so long, so sorry, forgive me >.<
Taisce watched you approach, with your sable skin painted like sweeping dunes. You were satin, gleaming gold and red and simple brown. Taisce thought you wore so many colours; the soul of the earth imprinted across your slender frame.
Taisce is so very far from your earthen hues. He succumbed to the ocean so long ago now.
Still he watched you, everywhere from the glittering gold of the delicate jewelry hanging from your nose and dancing across your cheek, to the khol lines that followed the sharp angle of your cheeks and gathered together into a ‘v’. You wore the earth (its paint, its metal, its gems), like he wore the sea. Each of you were wild that day, each of you were catastrophic in your boredom.
Together you were the wrath of the ocean and the desert set to consume it.
He sang to you, unwavering, haunting and beautiful, but you had already heard him hadn’t you? Already that song, rising and falling like the swell of the sea, had pulled you in as gently, as slyly as the tide pulling you out to sea. It was familiar, a warm memory slipping beneath your skin begging to be remembered.
So he waited for you, like a spider for its fly. His web is gossamer gold and it stretches, fine and gleaming, in marble art across his skin.
Though Taisce stood quite still, did you see how his skin rippled, Makeda? It was a testament to the waters that lapped at his cloven feet.
For every step you took to him, your dragon was awakening. Already it watched him with orange-blue eyes (so many eyes!), that were so alert. Your dragon knew, even then. But still you stepped closer still and still he remained silent.
That kelpie boy enjoyed the ease with which you came to him, with your scorpion neck so proudly arched. You were a prize of the desert and he knew the davke oh so well. His eyes curled and twisted up your spiral horns and his pearl eyes glimmered. We will never know if it was recognition that flared then.
His collar gleamed beneath Solis’ gaze, it was turning grubby black and red with rust, but it was silver enough to still look fierce and fettering. Its story was one of blood and it was as potent as the canid teeth that lay hidden beneath his golden lips.
Ears, long as champagne flutes, and just as elegant, tipped to catch your words. Shells fell from his body as he moved. They landed in the sand with a ripple of chimes like spilled gold. Taisce’s steel-blue skin twitched and he smiled, a wine rich smile for you, the slender girl upon her beach, her watchful serpent curling about her limbs.
Taisce moved again and the desert wondered where his spear had gone. But waves crash into rocks as seafoam sprayed across his skin; it darkened him with sin. The kelpie looks to the painted girl and speaks, at last. “Waiting.” He muses slowly.
He ascends to you, over slippery rocks that cannot trip him. His skin dripped eternally and his sea-storm mane and tail hung as a waterfall may. When he moved close to you, and he moved very close indeed, you might have been able to scent the salt upon his skin, the breeze of the ocean roaring out at sea.
He looked to your lavender eyes and then away over your desert skin, over your limbs as fine and long and dangerous as the spears he once threw. Taisce tasted the air, they way you made it smell of smoke and spices. Your skin was dry, but it helped him remember, and that is why he lingered close, close, close. That is why he circled you and then came to rest before you.
He was the tide and he would pull you out to sea.
“Calling old friends.” Taisce said to you, in a voice that sings from the ocean deep.
Author: Unknown
@Makeda - gosh so long, so sorry, forgive me >.<
