Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
The sea is greedy this day. Its waves hungrily pull at the boat, tipping it onto it’s side as the basilisk weighs it down, down.
It does not take long for the boat to sink, so eager is the sea, so keen the breakers that wash over the wood, swallowing it down in blue.
The cries of men are consumed by the hiss and creak of wood. Gravity pulls harder, harder and as water floods the boat, it sinks, faster, faster. Men are sucked down below the waves, the boards washed of urine as the sea claims the failing ship. The clink of chains soon falls silent and Raum wonders for how long the men can breathe until death creeps upon them, squeezing their lungs until numbness reaches their every part.
Yet the boat is gone and none dare regret its sinking, nor try to help when Raum is present. He feels loathing eyes upon his spine, hatred that nicks at his bones. He moves for the castle, and the only song that remains is the girl’s chains clinking and clanking.
She hungers, he knows. Raum leads the girl into a room, where already food waits for them. They are only small nibbles, not enough to stave the wolf of hunger that prowls through the midnight-girl’s stomach growling, rattling its teeth along her ribs.
Her chains clink and her turns to her, drinking in the black of her skin, the slim lines of her sides, the grooves of her ribs. The chains are great about her ankles and already rub sores into the swell of her fetlocks. The pink skin is skies of dawn blooming against the black of her midnight skin.
He does not offer her chains to be removed.
But, he murmurs, “eat.” And the food before them steams. Ah, the desert outside is gold and bare, it denizens thirst and hunger and yet, before this girl of night and mystery he lays the beginnings of a lavish feast.
Does he hear her stomach growl again? Maybe the lupine hunger within her yearns for the myriad breads and meats that lie out warm and fragrant. “Eat,” Raum welcomes again, as he stands to the side, his blue eyes, sharp as sparks along her skin – static dancing up her spine. “Then tell me your name and why you are here.”
About the slender curve of her throat, a choker of ebony lace ties snug. A pendant hangs, it glowed once, upon the ship, the moment her gaze turned soft. In silence Raum studies it, wonders what charms lie within its depths and the chains that hang in waves beside it. “My name is Raum, I am the king of Solterra.”
@Polyxena
![[Image: x341oLX.png]](https://i.imgur.com/x341oLX.png)
You're one microscopic cog
in his catastrophic plan
in his catastrophic plan
