They are eternal for a moment, horse and winged one, and the world quiets in the space between them. Blood is the only sound, rushing through their wounds and dripping upon the marble below. Then there are breaths to break up the silence broken up by blood and Wormlust breathes him in just as he breathes in enough air to swallow his pain and run.
And she, when their movements start up once more, lets him breathe and turn to run between the pillars of stone and the shadow of her wings under the moonlight.
She watches him go and licks his blood from her lips and from the bits of flesh between her razor teeth. Her throat feels warmer for the wine of him, spiced with oak and moss and forgotten things that she might be the only one but him to remember. His blood is like a map of him, tangles of splendor and opiates and she's almost swaying with want and need and something else.
It's the something else that should worry the world.
Lysander runs and she turns to explore the temple and all the broken stones of the statue. The stone feels cool beneath her tongue and when she lifts her broken and bloody feathers to paint strange symbols on the walls and the floor words pour profane from her lips.
“Hail.” The sea says to dead stone as she paints the words out in violence. Outside the temple the night carries on through the hours of her ritual.
@Lysander (forgot about this D:)
WORMLUST
monster of the sea
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