And we long for the place where we can be found
Burning like a star in our minds
Burning like a star in our minds
There is a quiet that spills across gleaming floors and stretches far into the corners of the darkness, a black so deep that it is only pulled apart at its seams by the pinprick light of her fire. That light buries its way into the bodies of the speckled crowd gathered at the stage's feet, seeping into flesh and pooling between ribcages; and she is the puppeteer that they all fawn over, strings drawn tight as all glinting eyes reflect only her heat. She plucks at them, those tethers she holds, surrounded by silence save for the cracks of the flames she devours. They demand all attention, the girl and her fire, and how there is so much to give her! They come in waves and droves to stare at her glimmering skin as it refracts the oranges and reds, a daring act that, no matter how often it is seen, never loses its violent appeal.
And between it all Manon is there to watch.
She lurks amid the masses, undulating body disguised by magic that takes away all signs of who she is--for she is merely a blurred surface unrecognizable by any as she slips inside the darkness and around those gathered, once-shining eyes dulled so as not to spill their secrets. All aspects of her are gone: there are no white splashes to compliment a russet paint, no silver hair to glide against a mottled, ballerina figure, and even her twigs and crystals disappeared inside the grasp of illusions. And so perhaps she felt rather plain there under the eyes of all who converged, but she knew it was necessary for her goal; trays of clinking drinks (the only noise to interrupt an otherwise deathly stillness) followed her as glasses of liquor were offered to anyone who insisted on more, more to make them forget any but the girl and her show. Manon was all too pleased to oblige, since it wasn't only personal problems that were left behind in the Scarab...
The performance ended as it always had--the flame was consumed and in the utter black both mistresses of dangerous whims disappeared along with it. The crowd erupted in cries of acclamation as it had done every time before, flowers and trinkets thrown without thought or care on the space the antlered figure just stood. They were all creatures of simple pleasures, simple minds, simple deception; they gave away treasures without second thought and she was sick of them all. How easy it was to trick them into a stupor of unabashed bewilderment and take the things most precious to them.
How easy it was to be fitted among them.
"I always wondered how you do that." The words drifted to reach the ears of the entertainer, rough and circling like a predatory thing trying to disalarm its prey before attack. They purred and danced and laid themselves to rest between two who, at one time, pretended to be things they weren't (so unfortunate it was for anyone, for everyone, for her, that she became the very thing that threatened to take hold and drown them all into a pit of solitary despair). Maybe at one time they were alike, the deadly beauties with an even more fatal mind, and maybe at one time they would have been quite fond of each other; but that would have been a different world under different circumstances, ones that brought them together outside of the cryptic walls of the establishment.
But as it were they found each other there, in a place of grandeur promises made to undeservingly broken hearts. And it was as Manon sidled alongside the oil-slicked enchanter that they would again find themselves in a battle of grace.
Her disguise faded away and revealed the razor-boned woman with serpentine eyes and a dagger for a soul. She slipped a smile at the bartender and no words were needed before he brought her her usual. It might have been a slight handful of months since she returned, but all remembered her crystalline figure just as they would have the glimmering-adorned one of her companion.
"Minya, how lovely to see you again." A flash of compassion, a sting of indifference, it wasn't known what the true feelings behind her honeyed statement were made of.
And between it all Manon is there to watch.
She lurks amid the masses, undulating body disguised by magic that takes away all signs of who she is--for she is merely a blurred surface unrecognizable by any as she slips inside the darkness and around those gathered, once-shining eyes dulled so as not to spill their secrets. All aspects of her are gone: there are no white splashes to compliment a russet paint, no silver hair to glide against a mottled, ballerina figure, and even her twigs and crystals disappeared inside the grasp of illusions. And so perhaps she felt rather plain there under the eyes of all who converged, but she knew it was necessary for her goal; trays of clinking drinks (the only noise to interrupt an otherwise deathly stillness) followed her as glasses of liquor were offered to anyone who insisted on more, more to make them forget any but the girl and her show. Manon was all too pleased to oblige, since it wasn't only personal problems that were left behind in the Scarab...
The performance ended as it always had--the flame was consumed and in the utter black both mistresses of dangerous whims disappeared along with it. The crowd erupted in cries of acclamation as it had done every time before, flowers and trinkets thrown without thought or care on the space the antlered figure just stood. They were all creatures of simple pleasures, simple minds, simple deception; they gave away treasures without second thought and she was sick of them all. How easy it was to trick them into a stupor of unabashed bewilderment and take the things most precious to them.
How easy it was to be fitted among them.
"I always wondered how you do that." The words drifted to reach the ears of the entertainer, rough and circling like a predatory thing trying to disalarm its prey before attack. They purred and danced and laid themselves to rest between two who, at one time, pretended to be things they weren't (so unfortunate it was for anyone, for everyone, for her, that she became the very thing that threatened to take hold and drown them all into a pit of solitary despair). Maybe at one time they were alike, the deadly beauties with an even more fatal mind, and maybe at one time they would have been quite fond of each other; but that would have been a different world under different circumstances, ones that brought them together outside of the cryptic walls of the establishment.
But as it were they found each other there, in a place of grandeur promises made to undeservingly broken hearts. And it was as Manon sidled alongside the oil-slicked enchanter that they would again find themselves in a battle of grace.
Her disguise faded away and revealed the razor-boned woman with serpentine eyes and a dagger for a soul. She slipped a smile at the bartender and no words were needed before he brought her her usual. It might have been a slight handful of months since she returned, but all remembered her crystalline figure just as they would have the glimmering-adorned one of her companion.
"Minya, how lovely to see you again." A flash of compassion, a sting of indifference, it wasn't known what the true feelings behind her honeyed statement were made of.
@
TO LIVE MY LIFE THE WAY I WANT
TO SAY AND DO WHATEVER I PLEASE
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(Please tag me in every post)
(Please tag me in every post)
