Antiope
acting on your best behavior
turn your back on Mother Nature
acting on your best behavior
turn your back on Mother Nature
For a moment Antiope considers what these equines would make of her if she pulled her axe from its place just behind her shoulder and set it ablaze. She wonders what they would think if she suddenly started to draw upon the hungry magic in her veins that would make her stronger, faster, that would make her eyes glow.
What would they call her?
God? Devil? Perhaps they might think her a prophet or saint. A savior. But Antiope is none of these things, even if at times she has felt like all of them. After her creation, worshipped by the people, on the battlefield. In her non-death. When she killed her creators.
And when the boy of earth and leaves sidles up to her, her sea blue eyes turn toward him and she realizes something. She had seen him, standing there, leaning up against the market stall, but had looked past him. She would not look past him again, Antiope thinks, as he speaks and the points of his sharp teeth catch in the light.
"I am hunting for an old friend," she says but she doesn't elaborate on what friend. She thinks of certainty and assuredness, of satiation and reprieve. Of rest. What Antiope does not think about is Rezar, nor her daughter, for they were much more than friends and now they are only memories.
The markets are too loud and buzzing and buzzing and the lioness in her bones is rearing her head with eagle-sharp eyes, and everything inside Antiope is too big for this place. It pushes against her skin and presses against her ribs and she wonders if the antlered man at her side can sense it, if he can see it.
Why should she deny the hunting, if it is so obvious. Why should she deny the predator living in her skin. "And you? Is there something you wish to see hunted?" Her eyes glimmer in the firelight and her skin, it glows and glows under the dancing of the flames. Is it obvious then, too, that something other is inside of her?
"Speaking."
What would they call her?
God? Devil? Perhaps they might think her a prophet or saint. A savior. But Antiope is none of these things, even if at times she has felt like all of them. After her creation, worshipped by the people, on the battlefield. In her non-death. When she killed her creators.
And when the boy of earth and leaves sidles up to her, her sea blue eyes turn toward him and she realizes something. She had seen him, standing there, leaning up against the market stall, but had looked past him. She would not look past him again, Antiope thinks, as he speaks and the points of his sharp teeth catch in the light.
"I am hunting for an old friend," she says but she doesn't elaborate on what friend. She thinks of certainty and assuredness, of satiation and reprieve. Of rest. What Antiope does not think about is Rezar, nor her daughter, for they were much more than friends and now they are only memories.
The markets are too loud and buzzing and buzzing and the lioness in her bones is rearing her head with eagle-sharp eyes, and everything inside Antiope is too big for this place. It pushes against her skin and presses against her ribs and she wonders if the antlered man at her side can sense it, if he can see it.
Why should she deny the hunting, if it is so obvious. Why should she deny the predator living in her skin. "And you? Is there something you wish to see hunted?" Her eyes glimmer in the firelight and her skin, it glows and glows under the dancing of the flames. Is it obvious then, too, that something other is inside of her?
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![[Image: 13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png]](https://file.toyhou.se/images/13716916_Rc8f5hGvZkB3cYP.png)
a war is calling
the tides are turned
the tides are turned
