a symphony of blood and war
*
There is something beautiful and wild in the way that Calliope and Raymond communicate. They are an orchestra of rasping, winded breaths and the quivering of muscles and flesh that are made to destroy. Each of their eyes hold a novel and she watches that smile twist his lips and thinks it might be the end of her great story.
They talk as ancient horses do.
Touches replace words and sweat paints them in a history that needs no sounds to whisper its weaving tale. Every part of her leans towards him under that cavern of bones. Only her eyes turn away and shift back towards the sea. An ear flicks at the roaring of the ocean as the tides turn and start to rise. Soon the bones will nothing more than a hint of something fathomless beneath the sea-foam.
To Calliope the sea once felt like a tempest of a challenge. Now it only feels like an echo of the roaring white-water of her heart as she looks away the water and meets that endless, amber gaze.
It feels like a war rises up in dust between them. It's one that requires not blood-lust but dedication and she wonders if there is an end to this weight between them. She wonders if this is to be the one battle that drowns her in sorrow and blood, never to rise again.
He breaks the mortal silence and she silently laments for the way they seem all at once like only horses again. There beneath the bones upon the damp sand they could have been gods. The first to build their own civilization of brutal, violent balance. But then she's swept away by the sound of his voice and the way it echoes even in the open spaces between the bleached bones.
This is a hint of the man Calliope never knew, a man free to follow the winds of change and be what ever the moment called for. What could they have been, had she never felt the edge of his blade at his neck and he never know the fury of her justice?
She is glad the rift and the magic that could have sent her back, back, back is gone. It could have sent her back before he was a flash of blood-red at her side, before her horn was crowned with his creation.
“Do you still see it now when you close your eyes and think of power?” Calliope speaks and it's nothing more than an echo of the sea and her heart froths with a tidal wave of emotion. There is that tempest inside her still. With Raymond here it might be the eye of the that storm that smiles and speaks and closes the distance to lean against him. And when she closes her eyes and thinks of power it's not dragons and lions and karma that she thinks of.
When Calliope closes her eyes all she can see is red, red, red.
And when they open again she sighs and rests her cheek against his.
@Raymond
