He smiles, white breaking up the blood-red of his coat like a flash of a moon between the clouds of a red, red sunset. Calliope imagines, boldly and violently, using her horn to pluck out his smile as she once tore the bones of monsters out of their broken, diseased skin.
Still, her heart beats like a traitor between her ribs. It hums for his smile and the way it makes a masterpiece upon his face. In the end it's her heart that saves him. It hums and keeps her horn against the wall when it clamors for blood and revenge. Her horn wants to tear into his chest and her heart wants to move closer just to see that he's unmarked by dragon rage.
This feels as personal as the killing rage once felt, that beast of a feeling that sent her screaming and hungry across the Riftlands for the eradication of monsters. It feels as if she should turn and go back, back, back to Terastella.
Once, Calliope imagined that Raymond would never falter as the others had. She believed with all the passion of a unicorn that they were the two things that no world, monster or magic could change.
But this red warrior who smiles before her rage is not the Raymond she knew. That Raymond would never be so foolish to send a letter to her as a politician might.
Finally she moves close enough to feel his heat (still she doesn't want to touch him) and her throat rumbles like a lion's might when it faces the wildebeest that thinks it might survive such rage. Her hooves clang on the stone like a gavel. She sounds like a war encased in flesh as she moves closer to him. That horn of hers shreds the stones that have grown weak with age and flakes of earth look like ash where they fall on her face.
Calliope promises violence with every inch of her.
She tries to forget that she knows what his lips feel like when they set her skin aflame more than any bolt of lightning ever did.
“You sent me a letter,” Each word is a growl and all of them a single drag of a hoof. They rattle against the walls. Calliope imagines that she might raze the entire Night Court with this recklessness boiling in her veins like a volcano. “to tell me that you left.” She's close enough now to bare her teeth, to snap at the air beside that smile of his. Part of her wants to drag them down his face, to see what rot might be brought to light (surely it's a sickness that has turned him from her).
Her horn, when she lifts it from the wall flashes like a a gunshot in the light, a starburst of a sword over the killing fields. It hangs in the space between them as if it waits for payment and it shivers when she rears as if that movement is not enough to soften the hunger of that blade.
“I hope your choices bring you peace.” Now she smiles and hers is full of suffering, of blood-lust. It's a smile that promises to savor the pound of flesh she is owed. Her words echo loud enough to rattle down every star that the Night Court might hold dear, to rattle all of Novus down to rubble.
Her heart hums and flickers one last time before she lowers her horn. Calliope aims for his heart, that wicked organ that once dared to mimic the beat of her own beneath a archway of bones.
And on that last hum of her heart it's the love of Calliope that gives him time enough to defend himself before she begins her hunt.
BUT THE BEAUTY OF HER FORM BRINGS VIOLENCE
A LONG AND LOVELY FALL NO WILL OR FIRE CAN OPPOSE
Still, her heart beats like a traitor between her ribs. It hums for his smile and the way it makes a masterpiece upon his face. In the end it's her heart that saves him. It hums and keeps her horn against the wall when it clamors for blood and revenge. Her horn wants to tear into his chest and her heart wants to move closer just to see that he's unmarked by dragon rage.
This feels as personal as the killing rage once felt, that beast of a feeling that sent her screaming and hungry across the Riftlands for the eradication of monsters. It feels as if she should turn and go back, back, back to Terastella.
Once, Calliope imagined that Raymond would never falter as the others had. She believed with all the passion of a unicorn that they were the two things that no world, monster or magic could change.
But this red warrior who smiles before her rage is not the Raymond she knew. That Raymond would never be so foolish to send a letter to her as a politician might.
Finally she moves close enough to feel his heat (still she doesn't want to touch him) and her throat rumbles like a lion's might when it faces the wildebeest that thinks it might survive such rage. Her hooves clang on the stone like a gavel. She sounds like a war encased in flesh as she moves closer to him. That horn of hers shreds the stones that have grown weak with age and flakes of earth look like ash where they fall on her face.
Calliope promises violence with every inch of her.
She tries to forget that she knows what his lips feel like when they set her skin aflame more than any bolt of lightning ever did.
“You sent me a letter,” Each word is a growl and all of them a single drag of a hoof. They rattle against the walls. Calliope imagines that she might raze the entire Night Court with this recklessness boiling in her veins like a volcano. “to tell me that you left.” She's close enough now to bare her teeth, to snap at the air beside that smile of his. Part of her wants to drag them down his face, to see what rot might be brought to light (surely it's a sickness that has turned him from her).
Her horn, when she lifts it from the wall flashes like a a gunshot in the light, a starburst of a sword over the killing fields. It hangs in the space between them as if it waits for payment and it shivers when she rears as if that movement is not enough to soften the hunger of that blade.
“I hope your choices bring you peace.” Now she smiles and hers is full of suffering, of blood-lust. It's a smile that promises to savor the pound of flesh she is owed. Her words echo loud enough to rattle down every star that the Night Court might hold dear, to rattle all of Novus down to rubble.
Her heart hums and flickers one last time before she lowers her horn. Calliope aims for his heart, that wicked organ that once dared to mimic the beat of her own beneath a archway of bones.
And on that last hum of her heart it's the love of Calliope that gives him time enough to defend himself before she begins her hunt.
BUT THE BEAUTY OF HER FORM BRINGS VIOLENCE
A LONG AND LOVELY FALL NO WILL OR FIRE CAN OPPOSE
@Raymond
