[P] Drink your wine from my heart; {rebuilding}

[Marisol]

WITH SWORD AND SALT -

She wishes for a minute that she were something sharper-toothed and more violent, that she had claws and fangs rather than these horribly delicate sable feathers and the ivory of her bones she knows is useless buried this deep underneath her skin. Marisol’s sweat speckles the dark, dark dirt under her knees, and when the moon catches them, it shines a light on two women more desperate than human.

Her lungs burn against her chest. She scrapes her rough-edged hooves against the soft, rotten wood and plows through layers of silt, mulch, ants and centipedes and crystals of salt and shells washed up from their too-frantic ocean. Nothing matters, not really, except for the sound of breaths rattling from deep in the ground and the effort she puts into digging farther, farther, farther. And somehow always closer.

When the world splinters apart, Mari chokes a sigh of relief at seeing the body underneath unharmed - dirty, sure - bruised, a little - but all his bones the right angles, all his skin unslashed, his blood does not salt the earth, and for that Marisol is eternally grateful. She squeezes her eyes shut. She tips forward to rest her dark forehead against the dirt for a long breath so deep it burns in her chest and then she finds her strength again and reaches forward to pull the boy out.

The wind whips hard and salty against their skin, against the onyx waves of their hair. Mari heaves for breath a little in the cold air. When Isra speaks it almost doesn’t reach her ears and when it does, she looks at the Night queen with dark eyes full of surprise, little moons in the nighttime she’s come to hate so much - Of course, mumbles the Commander. She tries for a smile, tense as it might be. My name is Marisol - 

She does not say Commander, or pilot, or Terrastellan. It does not seem to matter anymore.

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<3

aimless | kokovi