Her spine is starting to feel like a snake uncoiling. It feels like a tangle of sinew and hunger that is only just now waking up from a deep, dark slumber. When she lilts her head up again the young moon starts to reflect in her gaze. Thana thinks of snakes and god-rivers that run like serpents through the nothingness.
The cold of the coming night is starting to settle in her bones. It feels like snowflakes of death running through her blood, tiny diamond shards that sink in along her lungs. She shivers and thinks that maybe this body is already starting to die around her. Maybe she was not made to last. Like a star she's blazing now but she's already falling, falling, falling.
Thana takes another step through the planet of death around them. Her tail drags a track through the rot and she doesn't let herself think of the way snakes leave marks in the sand. Like a diving rod she turns her horn towards the East and the moonlight. She wants to feel heat. She wants dead sand that cannot rot.
She wants the death frost inside her to melt.
“We could go East.” Thana says and the words rattle at the back of her teeth like storm-winds. What she doesn't say is that, and we will bring death with us with every step. The blade on her tail makes an almost sigh when she curls it away from the ground and from all the black below them. The sound makes her think of blood and that dark beast inside her telling her to keep looking, keep wanting, keep destroying.
But when she brushes their shoulders together, and turns towards the east, that chorus of violence in her dies like frost before the fire.
@Angharad
