 In that stinging blackness in her eyes, where skin is burning to hold back all the light, Eshek is falling. Down, down, down. She's traveling down between all the ash and soot in her blood, all the worlds orbiting the tunnel of her larynx. It is a sensation of which she is familiar with, that feeling of spiraling down in the blackness that is a suggestion of a thousands shapes but of also nothing at all.
Oh it's been so long since she's felt it, this promise of violence that hasn't learn what form to evolve into. For that she will always be grateful to this massive altar of a boy with blood dripping from his horns as if they dream of being guillotines.
“I am Eshek.” She says into the black death of the alley in which her throat is still trembling with the urge to flow like a river. Her blood flows like mad water through her and it wants out. It wants to eat and eat until there is nothing left but the bottom of a bright sea. Eshek opens her eyes and she cannot help but miss the darkness just a little.
There are wonderful things to be discovered in the blackness.
Her muzzle waits between them like an offering, a ghoulish precipice in which she's not sure he would ever be able to understand. Stallions with horns are made for different things than that which dead things and Gods are made for. “El Rey,” She starts and her eyes throb like a heartbeat in the holes of her head. “You could be of more than Sevetta and the House of Bulls. You could be of everything.”
Each of her teeth shine with spit and water when she smiles at him like a mother might or like a prayer might smile at bent heads and bloody knees. “Would you like to learn?”
eshek
“a fathomless chaos of eternal night.”
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