She floats in the water, serpentine. From shore she might be mistaken as a large, crooked piece of driftwood. She is not.
Where are you moon? Moon, Moon, Mooon.
Moon was a new word to her and she repeats it over and over, imagining the way the letters roll around each other. How they would taste on her tongue, mixed with the air (Air, what a word! What a thing! Sometimes salty, sometimes... earthy, she thinks is the word for it) how they would rise from her throat like something sweet and syrupy.
It was important to know words, especially in a place where her name carried no weight. Princess Anandi would have to earn respect here, and one could hardly be respected without an education. But it was also of note that she liked the word moon for what it was. It was good to know the names of things that flattered you best, and oh how the moon flattered her.
She waits for the moon to come out (it felt like her only friend in this big, new world) and then she rises from the water step by shaky step. She always thought it would hurt to grow legs, but it doesn't hurt. It doesn't feel good, either. It doesn't feel like anything at all except different, and different always fascinated her. What does feel good is the way the water clings to her, catches the moonlight, makes her shine like blue-violet marble-- if marble had teeth. Her eyes seem all the darker for the way the moon catches on her cheekbones and her mane, plastered to her neck, drips silver. She feels holy, sacred, beautiful.
If she had not come into this world three thousand feet below the sea, one might think she was born to the moon.
She walks inland so very slowly, a strange pearl spit from a strange sea. Moonlight drips from her, dangerously. If one looked carefully, they would see her hoofprints began at the edge of the ocean, and they might wonder what strange magic was at work tonight.
A N A N D I
open to any <3
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
