“Did you know I would come to hunt you down?” Each word is a crack of thunder, a hiss of lighting, a lion's cry when poachers come with blood on their hands and bodies at their back. Her words are an earthquake and they reshape her heart, her bones, every part of her that betrays the rage and sobs to know that he offered only words on paper instead of touches when he left her.
Raymond had promised to never forget her, never let her memory fade like a tide cast back out to the depths of the sea. Now Calliope wishes that he hadn't spoken vows to her in their palace of dead, sun-bleached things. Perhaps then her horn would not waiver so.
Perhaps she would not feel as if the stones beneath her hooves are cliff rock, brittle and eager to cast her down, down, down. Perhaps she would have been happy to pluck that Brutus heart from his chest cavity like the golden apple of Eden.
He continues and she could roar for the way she knows regret. Raymond's words feel like chains, like iron bars driven through her heart to bleed out all that she is, to leave nothing left of Calliope. His words are weapons, brutal and thirsty, and she blazes against what they suggest.
Calliope lunges towards him, forgoing her horn for teeth, sharp efficiency for the brutal of teeth and rage. Her teeth snap like fangs at his face, hungry for blood. She craves with a white-hot sort of craving a way to show him that she is no mere mare to be left behind when war is to be waged. Calliope is a unicorn, a weapon forged in suffering, made only for war, for justice.
And yet her heart draws her short and her teeth grind only against each other and not his flesh.
Raymond pauses and that weapon upon her brow quivers for his skin, his heart, his pain. It rages to let him know all the things that letter left behind in her heart. The edges of his words felt like razor blades when she read them, just as the excuse boiling silent on his lips does now. “Because.” The way she repeats his hollow word feels no less sharp for the way they are sounded out syllables and not mere ink. Her own voice stabs into her skin, dives deep and leaves nothing the same as before.
“You offer me silence as a reason.” Calliope grinds her teeth like a hungry thing, a lioness starved for centuries. “I should kill you.” Her eyes blaze against his, the lighting storm against the sand storm. They move towards that tail hung cautiously at his side and she snaps her teeth together again both for the threat of the gesture and so that she might feel the stinging pain herself.
Part of her wants to flay the weapon from his tail. Part of her wants to twine her own tail with it and say that she forgives him for not feeling as immortal as she does when they are together.
All of her wants to forget that he answered her heartbreak with silence.
BUT THE BEAUTY OF HER FORM BRINGS VIOLENCE
A LONG AND LOVELY FALL NO WILL OR FIRE CAN OPPOSE
Raymond had promised to never forget her, never let her memory fade like a tide cast back out to the depths of the sea. Now Calliope wishes that he hadn't spoken vows to her in their palace of dead, sun-bleached things. Perhaps then her horn would not waiver so.
Perhaps she would not feel as if the stones beneath her hooves are cliff rock, brittle and eager to cast her down, down, down. Perhaps she would have been happy to pluck that Brutus heart from his chest cavity like the golden apple of Eden.
He continues and she could roar for the way she knows regret. Raymond's words feel like chains, like iron bars driven through her heart to bleed out all that she is, to leave nothing left of Calliope. His words are weapons, brutal and thirsty, and she blazes against what they suggest.
Calliope lunges towards him, forgoing her horn for teeth, sharp efficiency for the brutal of teeth and rage. Her teeth snap like fangs at his face, hungry for blood. She craves with a white-hot sort of craving a way to show him that she is no mere mare to be left behind when war is to be waged. Calliope is a unicorn, a weapon forged in suffering, made only for war, for justice.
And yet her heart draws her short and her teeth grind only against each other and not his flesh.
Raymond pauses and that weapon upon her brow quivers for his skin, his heart, his pain. It rages to let him know all the things that letter left behind in her heart. The edges of his words felt like razor blades when she read them, just as the excuse boiling silent on his lips does now. “Because.” The way she repeats his hollow word feels no less sharp for the way they are sounded out syllables and not mere ink. Her own voice stabs into her skin, dives deep and leaves nothing the same as before.
“You offer me silence as a reason.” Calliope grinds her teeth like a hungry thing, a lioness starved for centuries. “I should kill you.” Her eyes blaze against his, the lighting storm against the sand storm. They move towards that tail hung cautiously at his side and she snaps her teeth together again both for the threat of the gesture and so that she might feel the stinging pain herself.
Part of her wants to flay the weapon from his tail. Part of her wants to twine her own tail with it and say that she forgives him for not feeling as immortal as she does when they are together.
All of her wants to forget that he answered her heartbreak with silence.
BUT THE BEAUTY OF HER FORM BRINGS VIOLENCE
A LONG AND LOVELY FALL NO WILL OR FIRE CAN OPPOSE
@Raymond
