This keening soul;
Smoke, like prayers, rise from extinguished bonfires up, up into the night sky. The only light that falls in silver and bright. Oh when the light of flames is put out, Leto’s body sinks into night. She becoming nothing; another mere shadow stood behind the light of the moon.
That was until the blizzard came. It comes as light as dreams first. Each flake is perfect, each flake falls from an open sky like a star. It draws the shed-star girl out from the darkness, it lies in white along the subtle curves of her spine. It settles in her mane, upon the tops of her bells and in her eyelashes (for she does not draw her gaze from the sky, not when the moon it due to change).
Oh, in her skin is electricity, in her blood is the song of stars. She is so far from her Ilati home, but the earth is only part of her. She is woven together by roots, but her blood beats with star-white blood. The shed-star girl would not be anywhere else. She could not resist the call of night, oh the singing in her blood is as hot as fire. It is a clarion call, a summons she cannot fight, no matter how hard she may try.
Upon her skin is painted sigils, Ilati prayers, Ilati chants, they glow as her white blood flares with the presence of this sky-magic. No longer do shadows own her, not when the Dusk-girl glows with the light of the moon and stars combined. Snow begins to melt upon her skin and then it turns to steam and all over is steaming. Leto is an abony torch, a black flame here to burn the snow out of the sky. She is a black hole struck through with a light than glows from every vein. This girl is a splitting rock, her body holding a star that longs to break forth, to reach up to the stars that shine and the moon that begins to turn red, red, red.
Soon the snow is not white, but red as blood. The moon’s light gives each drifting flake wings, until in the breeze they flutter as fireflies might. They swirl and dance upon prayers and chants, they swirl close to Leto in a dalliance to last only the night.
But no snow can touch her now, not when the sky bleeds red, when the moon begins to hide, when black comes creeping. The stars flare brighter, white as bone, and still the snow falls bright and red. The winds throw firefly-flakes hither and thither, it tugs at Leto’s ebony mane, it turns her wild. She dances as the shed-stars dance and this time her music is not of the earth but of the sky. There are no drums to vibrate her bones, not when there is the violin keening of stars calling like dragons in the night.
A star falls brighter than bright. It douses the flames of falling snow, it steals the red of the eclipse moon, and reminds the earth that it should be white. It falls for Leto, summoned by her magic, enchanted by her bright white skin. And then, just as it should touch her, just as it should smite her like it has a thousand falling snowflakes, it fades in to nothing and all turns to blood again.
The black girl turns, flinching as her skin begins to sear, as her body turns hot, hot, hot. Oh her magic is wild now, oh it heeds the call of the moon, of the stars. It cries with the prayers, it dances to the music of its shed-star people, and Leto is running, she is streaking ebony beneath this night of crimson awe. She runs as close to water as she can. Her limbs find no rest until water from a pool laps, laps, beckoning her closer. But she stands, alight, brilliant and bright. She does not enter but begs her magic to calm, prays for it to ease and settle.
As she stands beneath the crimson snow, still falling, still as thick as a blood haze, she sees silver to rival the moon. Yet the moon is not silver this night. This silver is as water beneath the moon, as soft as the water that beckons her come. And she does, she moves closer, closer to the silver until it makes before her a man. All she feels is the cool of the sea, the taste of salt upon her tongue.
Fate nips as her heels, her hips, her cheeks, her lips. It laughs in her ears and pushes her closer, closer, it whispers in her ears and oh its song is sweet and right and so perfect she does not recognize it as Fate at all. Leto stands before the man and her skull tilts, bells chime and the stars begin to scream and not even the moon can look as it succumbs to blood and black.
“Hello.” She says, for how should one greet their fate?
@Amaroq - eeeeeeee. The Most Excited.
| "speaks" | notes: loooooong
