 Eshek can feel him. She can feel him revolving like a planet in the endless space of her. He is as hot as a star, full of fire and brightness that the black eternity of her wants to swallow. She taps at of the planet of him rolling inside her, she taps at it. She promises and begs.
Come closer. Dig Deeper. And then she steps closer in the real and says in that universe between them, Devour me. There is nothing she hides from him. But there is also nothing for him but death in the mansion of her but--
Pathways of bones pilled high into shrines. Pyres of rot lingering lonely and unlit. Lotus-faces are flowing, flowing down a river. There's smoke painting out words for him, bibles writ in soot and flame.
There's a sea too, a dead sea, a black sea. It's salty and metallic like blood and it feels like oil when Eshek swallows her light like spit. “It is,” she says even as she's still swallowing that spit and light. She shakes her head in a mirror-echo of his. When she drags her hoof across the dirt ants crawl out like small soldiers begging for annihilation. She pauses, blinks and the ants are dust beneath her dragging hoof.
“It is everything.” Could he not feel it? Could he not feel the expanses inside her that have no end but eternity? Could he taste the death and the rot that sits inside her like the sweetest desert made of nightshade? Oh she prays that he could! She prays, and prays, prays.
Can he read in her gaze that she would teach him?
She's still praying in words of moonlight and bloody ink when she reaches out her nose towards him, wondering if he's brave enough to touch her flesh instead of her sea. She waits and her eyes still pour out light like clouds pour out rain and thunder.
And the entire expanse of her is still gaping open like the jaws of a great-snake.
eshek
“a fathomless chaos of eternal night.”
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