------------------I have seen the dark universe yawning ---------------------------------Where the black planets roll without aim, The clouds seem to be nothing more than a lurid shimmer of moisture when her wings cut through them like a shark through the dark deep currents. Her feathers lap at the wind as her form eats up the sun and bits salt fall from her like flakes of snow in the winter-chill. Her shadow circles over and over again upon itself and soon all the shadows, clouds and killer and old weary storms look to be only a blot of darkness surrounded by light. Night is not the only hour to fear, to look above and think perhaps the gods seem like little things to fear. Below the mare moves, dark as soot broken up by pearl-glitz when the sun breaks off from the expanse of the hunter in rays of golden-light. Her movements whisper of a boundlessness between bits of flesh and bone and mortality. It feels like a rite (oh the monster thinks in pangs of hunger and lust) to watch the mare move between and shadows and light and the dark reflection of Her. And soon she watches the mare look around, eyes wild and fearless and bold enough to yell out at the sunlight meadow like a lamb yelling for the slaughter. It's not fear that breaks up the whistle of Wormlust's wings as she dives like a dread-hawk. But perhaps it should be. She adores the pillar of the dark mare, the way her soot swallows up the light where her own pale flesh reflects it as sea-froth does. There is something inconceivable in way she never folds her wings, in the way they drag and catch at the ground and flatten everything that is made to bear the heavy weight of those feathers. And in a glint of sunlight a few feathers are red and crimson and almost black with blood. “There are some things,” The voice, her voice, the voice of the first, is a noxious thing that sounds more like gas and sea than a language mere horses should speak. Her syllables seethe in whispers and hunger and a rage she's almost forgotten-- almost, almost, almost. “that you regret knowing.” Closer. Closer. Closer. Still she moves closer. monster of the sea |
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