“The forest rose like a dream
from the mind of Chaos’s lonely daughter
and the sun fell heavy and thick
to warm the blood of a world"


For a girl with blood that sings of freedom, and chaos, and all the bits of the world stretching on without end, there is a surprising amount of all three to be found in the bright spaces around the stars. Each step on the hollow not-earth, and between the glittering fog clouds of galaxies, and through the blackness so thick she could drown in it, Amaunet feels like a thing awakened. There is holiness here, remnants of a time before the gods and before all the mortal sins.

And of course there is chaos here. It's in the great collisions between the stars, and the planets, and the black-holes collapsing inward. Her own form glows with each explosion of light, and cosmic matter, and stars replicating like sick cells of each other. All she has in this hour of neither here nor there is her bloody warpaint and her golden accents. Each reflects in her light like blood and wealth, war and victory.

Soon she is another divine star moving through the blackness. She's soft gold against the thick dark and the bright silver. Like a virgin sun she moves, curious and almost shy, about the world around her. But deeper than that, in her blood and marrow, she moves not like a sun but like the cosmic snake twisting between the real and the dream sea.

Amaunet is not devouring her own tail. Instead she's swallowing a bit of darkness twisted with filaments of comet fire.

The black mares pulls out of the darkness, almost too suddenly to be a thing of flesh and bone instead of stardust. She smiles for the chaos of it, for that thrill in her heart as it starts to race in a way that has nothing at all to do with fear. Her hooves carry her closer, each step a distant purr of thunder echoing on the hollow not-earth.

“Hello.” She sighs the greeting with stardust and those filament of comet fire shining between her lips. At her side her feathers whisper another greeting, wing to wing in the language all birds of prey are born knowing.


@Lucinda

“The forest rose like a dream
from the mind of Chaos’s lonely daughter
and the sun fell heavy and thick
to warm the blood of a world"


Beneath her skin and golden glow the magic of her blood starts to purr. She can feel it like a living thing made of fire and like a snake it's reaching towards the black-mare with her hard jaw and her feral looking wings. It reaches through Amaunet's skin, like heat rising from a flame, and brushes slick and heavy at the world between them.

Rise. Her magic whispers. Become.

Amaunet cannot hear the words her magic is saying, only the rumbling purr and the way it itches down her spine like a caress. It is enough to make her wings whisper another predatory warning to the mare before they settle against her sides with stardust and moonlight caught between the feathers. “No.” She laughs around a smile and steps closer as only bold things are oft to do. Every inch of her is as welcoming as it is warning.

The mare's bitterness is obvious in the line of her jaw, and the curl of his lips that screams a warning Amaunet chooses to ignore. Adrenaline born from years of fighting rushes in a torrent through her blood and every inch of sinew bellows yes.

A ring moon settles towards the glass floor and the black line of the horizon flashes bright for a moment. She doesn't turn to look, doesn't turn away from the mare her magic is racing for. A hunger she knows too well is looking back at her as she steps closer, and closer. Each of her steps is another kiss of magic, another note of yes, yes, yes, and another whisper of her feathers to leather and talon.

“Was it fate you were looking for?”  Her voice is an echo of a star shooting across their shadows, a bit of brightness to the bitterness. And it's a promise when her necklace sways against her neck as she reaches out a nose towards the mare.



@Lucinda

“The forest rose like a dream
from the mind of Chaos’s lonely daughter
and the sun fell heavy and thick
to warm the blood of a world"


Something else stars to rise between the yes, hunger, and the steady echo of her magic against her chest like a newborn organ. It flutters against her bones like a trapped bird of prey. Her own wings shiver at her sides, an echo of the fluttering thing just starting to wake up. She wonders if it'll be another star to hang in this black space between them, or if it'll be a young sun just learning how to burn and devour up all the oxygen in this world.

When the mare bares her teeth like a wolf and spits her wrath, Amaunet only smiles in the way secrets smile. The glow flushes brighter against her skin, like a blush of sunlight against the blackness of the mare and the dragon that lands furiously at her side. If they are the night black-as-pitch, she is the morning red, red, red-as-blood. She laughs as the mare and dragon snarl as one with their mouths open to spit and froth against the dying of the darkness.

Every inch of her form shivers with light, and adrenaline, and instinct. Between her rib-cage her heart sets to aching when her wings thrash against the air to lift her hooves off the glass and stone. A challenge blooms in her eyes even as laughter bubbles in her throat like rain. A star blazes a line of fire between them and even though it stings her eyes to watch it go she does not close them, not even when they start to water against the ache.

“Careful.” She whispers in the silence between the light and the darkness. “Monsters have a way of being hunted.” Years of training, and suffering, and wildness rise in her like blood in a wound. And this time when her wings stir up stardust and moon-ash they seem to promise speed enough to cross this endless expanse of night instead of violence.



@Lucinda

“The forest rose like a dream
from the mind of Chaos’s lonely daughter
and the sun fell heavy and thick
to warm the blood of a world"


There has always been a difference between rage, and want, and chaos. She knows it well. As well as she knows the ways across the dune and the tunnel below the canyons. But looking at the mare, with her hunting hound of a dragon, she wonders if the knowing is curse or blessing. How easy it would be to snarl, and snap her wings, and spit fury instead of cleverness.

Amaunet laughs at the warning as all children of war and chaos do. Davke have been hunted and chased for years. And yet here she is, laughing at the girl and her hound like a fox who knows a million dens waiting in the dark forest. Hexes are for the weapons, not the hunters and not the foxes. Even the stars around her, the constellations and the caught moons, seem pale beneath the unashamed glory of her laugh.

How lonely to be so angry, so monstrous that dragons settle like pets beneath the horrible truth.

She wants to tell the mare that she'll burn out before the stars with all the things living black as oil where a bloody heart should be. She wants to tell her that heavy things belong in the sea and not in the sky.

She wants to stay a million things are the mare turns with her hound to leave.

But nothing comes out, not when the stars fall from her wings and land in snowy piles of ash on the glass floor. She only watches her go, that strange and knowing smile on her face, and lands upon the glass and stones. And she starts to run, wings spread wide as the horizon, just to hear the sound.

It sounds like music, and war, and a pride of lions running around the darkness.



@Lucinda